


drown me in your water

by kittyandmulder, maggneto



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Lifeguards, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Captain America Big Bang 2019 | cabigbang, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Maria Hill/Natasha Romanov, Pining, Rimming, Slow Burn, Swim Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-26 01:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 51,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21366007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittyandmulder/pseuds/kittyandmulder, https://archiveofourown.org/users/maggneto/pseuds/maggneto
Summary: Summer can be frustrating, stifling, and relentlessly suffocating. Or maybe that's just when you're stuck with your incredibly hot, ex-best friend for the summer.Summer can also be invigorating, freeing, and absolutely exhilarating. Or maybe that's just what happens when you get a little too close to your supposed ex-best friend.--a.k.a. the lifeguards slow burn au that no one asked for
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 131
Kudos: 558
Collections: Captain America Big Bang 2019 | cabigbang





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am so excited to finally share my first Bang! Thank you so much for checking this out and I hope you enjoy! First, there is some mild homophobia in chapter seven (one slur is used). It is pretty easy to avoid but the characters deal with the fallout of this event throughout the rest of the fic so please feel free to come to me with any concerns. I'd be happy to discuss it further and adjust tags where necessary! 
> 
> I have had such an incredible experience working on this Big Bang. This fic would not exist without a few people and I have to mention them here. 
> 
> My artists, [Kitty and Mulder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittyandmulder/pseuds/kittyandmulder), were unbelievably helpful and supportive throughout the entire process. Their feedback and encouragement were absolutely crucial and I seriously couldn't have done it without them. They also made five (5!!) incredible pieces of art for this fic so stick around for those! You can also find their post with each piece of art [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21355210/chapters/50865562)
> 
> [Melissa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cydonic/pseuds/cydonic), thank you for letting me scream about this fic to you day and night, thank you for your never ending encouragement, and thank you for your incomparable last-minute beta skills. I feel so lucky to call you my friend ❤️Mel also posted a BEAUTIFULLY soft shrinkyclinks au for the bang so please do yourselves a favor and go read it!
> 
> Thank you to the mods for all your hard work in putting this together–it is no easy task and we are all grateful. 
> 
> You can find me on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/sstevenbarness) and you can find Kitty and Mulder on twitter [here](https://twitter.com/KittyandMulder)
> 
> The title is from "Lucky Strike" by Troye Sivan

**_May 27_****_th_ ** ** _, 2002_ **

Bucky Barnes could hold his breath underwater for one minute and twelve seconds.

He knew it for a fact. He had been counting since he turned six and 1:12 was his current record. He also knew that no one in his grade came close to rivaling his time. His only competition was himself.

It was summertime, and Bucky was determined.

He took a few more deep breaths, holding the air for a moment before letting it out slowly, a wave of relaxation making its way through his body. The sun beat down, unrelenting, as he felt a familiar burning sensation begin to form on the top of his head. He tipped back to let the water cool his scorched scalp. When you’re seven years old, the momentary relief of cold water is just as effective as sunscreen and, besides, the water feels better so why would you get out to put that nasty stuff on anyways?

Just as he was about to take his final breath, something caught Bucky’s attention out of the corner of his eye at the end of the pool. A mop of shaggy hair, bleached blonde from the sun, climbing the ladder to the diving board. Bucky looked closer; the hair belonged to a scrawny-looking kid, close to his age, maybe younger. He was small, even smaller than Bucky. He was wearing short, red swim trunks and the sun reflected brightly off of his pale skin.

Bucky stared, confused, as the boy continued to climb the ladder to the first diving board. Bucky’s glance around the edges of the pool confirmed his suspicion–there were no lifeguards in the stands next to the diving pool. They had closed off the deeper end of the pool to take a break. It was still early morning so the park wasn’t yet its usual packed hive of children and teenagers, frantic with relief at the arrival of summer vacation.

The kid began to take a few hesitant steps forward. Bucky glanced over his shoulder and saw his mother at the far end in the kiddie section. The facility was huge, the main section stretching over 50 yards. There were two more pools connected to the main segment–one offered a shallow area with play equipment for younger kids, the other a deeper section for diving boards and older kids. Bucky’s mother often let him swim by himself, confident in his abilities and usually fixated on his little sister, Rebecca, who was still learning how to swim.

Bucky thought about going to get his mother for help, but he knew he wouldn’t make it in time and would probably just get in trouble for running in the process. Instead he swam closer, clutching the rope that sectioned off the deep end as he watched, fascinated. The boy was now at the edge of the board, staring down into the clear, blue water. He bent his knees and Bucky held his breath.

The boy jumped and Bucky followed.

His tiny body hit the water with a small splash and Bucky swam over the rope. He waded for a moment, waiting desperately for the boy to appear. When he didn’t, Bucky took a look underwater. Through the blurry haze he saw the shape of the boy, moving his arms and legs frantically. Without thinking, without even taking a breath, he dove down, pushing his arms and legs as fast as they would go. He reached the boy in seconds, hooking his hands under the small arms and pulling. His lungs cramped tightly, desperate for a breath. He pushed his legs hard, straining to drag the boy along with him. Finally, they broke the surface, both gasping for air. Bucky started to swim, dragging the kid to the ladder at the edge of the pool, the boy fighting and struggling against him the entire time.

Once the kid was finally out of the water, Bucky followed close behind, collapsing immediately onto the hot concrete, his arms draped loosely over his raised knees, breathing deep.

“Thanks,” the kid finally got out between panting breaths, “but I had it.”

Bucky eyebrows pinched together, his nose scrunching up as he squinted through the bright sun to see the boy’s face.

“Why did you do that? Can you even swim?” Bucky asked, mostly out of curiosity, but he could feel a bit of anger in his chest and he couldn't figure out why.

“Yeah I can swim!” the boy said indignantly, his chest puffing up in an attempt to look bigger, “I mean… pretty much. You just jump in and do it. That's the only way to learn.” He explained this with all the confidence of 7-year-old who didn’t, in fact, know how to swim.

Bucky looked at the ground, mulling this over. Finally he returned his gaze, face squinted in confused concentration. He said quietly, “I don't think that's how it works.”

“Well how would you know?”

“Because I can actually swim?” Bucky said sarcastically, righteous irritation appearing unexpectedly. “I just saved your butt, you know.”

“Oh. Yeah, that's true.”

Bucky nodded, the satisfaction of winning filling his chest.

“But I could've made it to the edge,” the kid had to add. “Really.”

Bucky jumped to his feet, balled his hand into a fist, and knocked gently on the front of the boy’s head. “My mom would call you hardheaded.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It's like when you never listen. Your parents give you a hard head so that when you fall down it doesn't hurt so bad,” Bucky explained, the ways of the world falling easily from his tongue.

The kid hummed in response. He jumped suddenly, his face lighting up in surprise as he remembered something crucially important. “My name’s Stevie, by the way. Well, Steve, actually. Steven Rogers. Do you wanna be friends?”

Bucky considered the scrawny kid in front of him. Reckless, restless, covered in freckles. Blue eyes wide with anticipation. “I guess I got to,” he said with the confidence of a kid who made friends all the time, instead of the kid who sat alone at recess. “I gotta make sure you don't drown.”

Steve laughed, his tiny body shaking with the force of the giggles, “I got a hard head, remember? I'll be fine.”

Bucky shook his head mournfully, “Man you really don't know how swimming works.” He took Steve's arm as he marched forward, heading straight for the shallow end. “Come on. I got some quarters we can dive for like buried treasure.” He felt Steve hurry along behind him, almost vibrating with excitement. “I'm Bucky, by the way.”

_________

** _Sixteen Years Later – May 27th_ ** ** _, 2018_ **

Steve groaned and rolled over to silence the incessant beeping next to his head. He eventually found the right button to turn off the alarm and laid back in a huff. He stared up at the ceiling through hazy morning eyes, willing himself to get out of bed. He felt a body shift next to him and bury a head further into his shoulder.

He glanced at the boy sleeping softly next to him, his lips relaxed into a pout. Lee was sweet. Steve had met him at the bar he and Sam visited the night before. He danced with an easy confidence and shot Steve an even easier smile. He was lean and muscular, his dark brown curls soft and disheveled. So Steve had taken him home.

“Time to go!”

He jumped at the booming voice that accompanied three hard knocks on his door.

He groaned. “Jesus, Sam, we don’t have to leave for another 30 minutes.”

“That means you’re already 20 minutes late! I know how long it takes for you to trim that beard.”

Steve rolled his eyes. Sometimes Sam could be _ aggressively _punctual. One of the many perks of living with a military brat. He reached over and placed a hand on Lee’s shoulder, gently shaking him awake. “Hey.” Lee blinked up at him wearily. “Sorry to kick you out but I’ve got to get going.”

Lee sat up and looked around, squinting at his phone. Steve laughed at his confused expression. “Jesus, it’s early.”

Steve stood and threw on his boxers and sweatpants. He tossed Lee his clothes. “Yeah, sorry I’m headed out of town today. Long drive.”

“Oh yeah? Where you headed?”

“Back home to Indiana. My roommate and I are working there for the summer.”

Lee hummed in acknowledgment. He was still wrapped in the white down comforter, watching Steve as he stretched his red _ University of Illinois Swimming & Diving _shirt over his head. 

“Yeah. So I’m gonna–” Steve paused awkwardly, pointing at the door, “–go get ready.” He slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. He didn’t usually do this–one night stands–and he hated trying to get them to leave. He had been casually dating recently but last night, high on the thrill of finally being done with finals, he’d wanted something even more casual.

He passed Sam in the hallway who asked quietly, “is this going to take a while?” his eyes shooting to Steve’s door and back.

Steve rolled his eyes. “No, Sam, God. He’s getting his stuff now.”

“Mhmm,” Sam hummed disbelievingly. “That’s what you said last time and we were an hour late!”

Steve ignored him and kept walking toward the bathroom. When he got to the door he turned and gave Sam a sweet smile, “Sam, your punctuality is one of the things I hate most about you.”

Sam laughed, “you love it, baby you can’t even lie.”

Steve laughed and shook his head. When he returned to his room freshly showered, Lee had made his way out of the excruciatingly comfortable bed and was gathering his things. He stared at Steve’s broad, muscular chest and the towel wrapped around his waist as he walked in. Steve felt a little uncomfortable but shot the guy an easy smile and started to get dressed.

“So,” Lee said, hesitantly, “can I text you?”

Steve looked down. Lee was sweet. But young. From their, admittedly brief, conversations the night before, Steve didn’t think they had much in common. A small voice in the back of his head reminded him that he probably wouldn’t have pursued this if they had anyway. He didn’t want to hurt the guy’s feelings but he really didn’t see this going anywhere.

“Um,” he started, looking everywhere but Lee’s face, “I’ll be in Indiana pretty much all summer.” It’s all he could come up with.

Lee’s eyebrows rose and he smiled, a look of understanding crossing his face. “Alright then, Cap. I’ll see you later.” As he walked by, he leaned up and pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek.

Steve bristled a bit at the nickname, but smiled softly and said, “yeah, see you.”

Once they packed the car, stopped at the gas station for proper road trip snacks–Cheetos, Doritos, and Gatorade thank you–and picked the perfect playlist, they were finally on the road. Only 15 minutes late.

Steve made sure to remind Sam that he had wasted a considerable amount of time complaining about all the bags Steve was bringing–_ who needs this many clothes? I mean, an entire bag of just swim suits? What the hell Steve? How could you possibly wear all of these?– _and Sam had reminded Steve that he spent entirely too long making the playlist. They bickered like an old married couple–or roommates who had lived together for three years–but it worked for them.

The opening chords to _ Rebel, Rebel _ filled the car and they were off.

The drive wasn’t too bad, only about 5 hours, and Sam and Steve had driven it many times. Living in the on-campus apartments their first three years of school was nice–except during the summer. The dorms closed over break and since neither one had a job because of their insane student-athlete schedules, they were forced to come home every summer instead of renting a place in Chicago.

It wasn’t too bad, though. He and Sam stayed in a small apartment that Sam’s uncle usually rented out but generously offered to the boys in exchange for yard work and odd jobs around his house. They worked as lifeguards at the neighborhood pool with some friends from high school. Only the good ones, of course. Coach Fury essentially gave Steve final say on all new hires because he had more important things to worry about and, frankly, didn’t care who sat in the chairs as long as they could swim. They spent every summer in the sun, covered in sunscreen and sweat, their stomachs aching from laughing so hard.

Steve didn’t mind his hometown, either. He loved being able to spend more than a 20 minute phone call with his mom and he was always happy to have family dinners at Sam’s house. Mr. and Mrs. Wilson fawned over him, asking about his grades and his love life, making him blush every time. He took ridiculous pictures on Snapchat with Sam’s younger sisters, and he played FIFA with Sam all night long. They were the big, boisterous family that Steve had always wanted.

Steve enjoyed spending summer break back home. It was a nice reprieve from the constant stress and pressures of school. His major in art history demanded a lot of his time. There were critiques, gallery visits, and essays–_ so many essays. _On top of all that he had his responsibilities for the swim team. Practice and conditioning every day, sometimes twice a day, meets every week, training camps and team meetings and socials. It was exhausting and he was wearing thin.

Sometimes–when he was waking up at 4:30 to go to practice, or stuffing his face because he had exactly 5 minutes to eat, or pushing back frustrated tears over an essay he couldn't get right–a thought crept into the back of his mind. Asking–just asking–if he _ really _ wanted to do this anymore. Swimming, art history, the university. It was a simple question. A nervous tick that had implanted itself in his head. He tried to brush it off. There was no point in asking that question because the answer was always the same. He stayed on the team. He stayed in school. There was no other option.

He definitely didn’t think about the brochure burning a hole in the bottom of his duffle bag. He wasn’t even sure why he had brought it with him. The brochure that detailed a list of potential fine art internships. He had decided against pursuing fine art, as it didn’t provide good career options. An internship would just be a waste of time. But one of his professors had given it to him, specifically, because they thought he would be a good candidate so he had been carrying it around. But it wasn’t like it was an option. So he stuck his nose in his books and told himself to forget about it.

So the break was nice, is what he was trying to say.

He had no homework, no practice, no weight lifting or strict diets, no mind numbingly boring books to read, no responsibilities. All he had to do was show up to the pool, get some sun, swim a few laps a week to stay in shape, and yell at some kids for running. No stress, no complications. It couldn't have been easier if Steve had designed it himself.

A high pitched screech brought him out of his reverie. Sam had been serenading him with Mariah Carey’s iconic “We Belong Together” and was attempting to hit, apparently, every single high note. Steve reached over and tried to cover his mouth without taking his eyes off the road, grabbing at his face uselessly.

“Dude, what did I tell you? No ruining the classics.”

Steve finally shut Sam up until he felt a tongue dart out and lick his palm. He yanked it away, making a face and wiping his hand on his jeans.

“Man, screw you. This song was made to be sung along to. It was made to be felt, deep in your soul.” Sam clutched his chest dramatically.

Steve snorted. “Who exactly are you mourning right now? The last relationship you were in lasted barely two months.”

“Steve, when are you going to learn? Mariah Carey tells you what to feel and that’s what you feel. You don’t get to argue.” He sat back in his chair in a huff. “Besides, I’ve been really busy lately. I don’t have time and even if I did, there’s no one I’m really interested in right now.”

“Sure there is. Her name is _ Mesoamerican Archaeology _and you make sweet love to her every night. Don’t think I can’t hear you next door.” Steve waggled his eyebrows.

Sam cracked up. “Whatever. Just because I actually _ like _ my major doesn’t mean I’m obsessed with it. You know, it’s usually preferable to _ enjoy _the thing you’re choosing to do for the rest of your life.” He gave Steve a pointed look.

Steve rolled his eyes and focused intently on the road. “Whatever you’re trying to say: don’t. I enjoy what I do.”

“Sure you do. Just like I enjoy two-a-days. Or white people dancing.”

“Don’t change the subject. You need to go on significantly more dates.”

“What, and kick ‘em out the next morning just like you?”

Steve wasn’t bothered. He threw his hands up, “If you want to, sure! Just… You need to put yourself out there. Meet new people.”

Sam had absolutely no problem making friends. But he hadn’t gone out with anyone since the previous semester. He hadn’t even mentioned anyone and Steve had noticed. He was so ridiculously focused on his studies and the soccer team that it was like nothing else mattered.

Sam was getting frustrated now. “At least I don’t want to set my textbooks on fire.”

“We’re not talking about that right now.”

“We’re not talking about that ever, apparently”

“Great! Glad you agree.”

Sam had been trying to get Steve to admit he hated his major ever since, well, ever since he chose the major. Steve would admit that art history wasn’t his first choice. Or second. But he chose it because it combined two things he loved: art and having a viable career. He loved to paint. He loved to create. But he only got one shot at college and he had to choose something practical.

Sam sighed, “Steve, I just don’t want you to get stuck somewhere doing something you hate. Security is not worth sacrificing your creativity or your happiness.”

“When did you get so wise?” Steve laughed, his smile unsuccessfully trying to hide a look of unease. “Alright. I’ll admit I don’t really know what I’m doing. But this is the best idea I’ve got right now. So can we just drop it? At least for the summer? I really don’t want to fall into an existential crisis before the fourth of July. It’s my only chance to show off my new American flag speedo.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “You’re aging me, Rogers.”

Steve flashed him a cheeky grin. “And you love me Wilson.”

“God help me but I do. I really do.”

By the time “XO” by Beyoncé came on they were back to their carefree selves, singing together, belting it out as they drove down the highway. A happiness and contentment found its way into Steve’s chest as they got closer to home.

Before long, he pulled into the familiar parking lot and looked up at the simple brick building in front of them, the sign reading _ Greenbriar Aquatic Center _over the front archway chipped and peeling. Steve grinned. Hadn’t changed a bit.

Steve and Sam walked the wide hallways, grinning and saying hi to everyone. The pre-summer staff meeting gave them a chance to catch up with the dozen or so other lifeguards before the season started. Sam stopped to talk to Rhodey about his soccer season that had just ended.

Steve walked into the breakroom and heard, “Rogers!” He turned to see Maria Hill bounding towards him, jumping into his arms for a hug. He squeezed her tightly and set her back down. “How have you been?” he asked her.

“Oh, you know. Just trying to stay alive in New York City,” she grinned. “Same old, same old.”

“Where’s your girl?” he asked, scanning the room.

“Being extremely social, as usual,” she said sarcastically, pointing behind her.

His eyes finally found Natasha and his stomach dropped.

She was sitting in the back corner of the breakroom staring intently at her phone. Her bright red hair peeked through the hoodie that covered her head and her feet were perched casually on the table. But that’s not what caught his eye.

Sitting next to her was a familiar face. Familiar, but distinctly different. The hair was longer, that was most obvious. Soft, dark waves were swept back into a half bun. The face was older; more laugh lines and a bit of stubble. The shoulders were broader, the skin not quite as tan as he remembered. But the eyes. The eyes were the same. Almond shaped with the longest lashes he had ever seen. Shades of blue shifting and crashing together into an abyss. They pulled him, dragged him down. He knew that face. He hadn’t seen that face in years but he knew that face.

Bucky.


	2. Chapter 2

** _June 20_ ** ** _th_ ** ** _, 2002_ **

Summer storms. Fireworks. Thunder. His mother crying. Water rushing into his nose.

Steve pushed these fears to the back of his mind as his body sank underwater. His feet quickly found their spot on the wall and he pushed off with everything he had.

Popsicles. Birthday cake. Paint by numbers. Sidewalk chalk.

He fought as hard as he could to replace the overwhelming fears in his head with the things that made him the very happiest. The things that made him smile instead of sending a rush of fear straight through his core like the deep end of the pool was doing at this very moment.

Steve kicked his feet as hard as he could. His tiny arms were windmills, swinging haphazardly through the water. He gasped for breath every time his face made it above water. Eventually, the seemingly infinite lane came to an end and he grasped onto the wall, breathing heavily. He ripped his goggles off and turned around, an expectant look making its way onto his face.

Instantly he found Bucky, sitting on the ledge at the far end of the pool. His goggles squeezed the top of his head, pushing dark curls down onto his forehead. Before Steve could say anything, Bucky sat up, two thumbs held triumphantly in the air.

Bucky screamed, unabashed, “You did it, Stevie!”

Steve should add this to the list of things that make him smile, he thought.

Faster than he thought possible, Steve pushed his fears and the dread they brought with them out of his chest. He hopped out of the pool and ran around to the other side.

“No running!”

Steve didn’t even send a glance to the lifeguard, he just straightened his arms to his sides and power-walked down the pool, in the way that all kids think is somehow different from running.

Bucky was grinning huge by the time Steve made it to his side, bright white teeth shining in the summer sun. “You made it all the way to the other side! Without even stopping or holding onto the wall or anything!”

“Told you I could do it,” Steve grinned, awful smug for someone who thought they were going to drown not two minutes ago.

Bucky laughed, rolling his eyes “Yeah that’s what you said last week until I had to rescue you, clinging onto the lane line for dear life.”

“I was just taking a breather,” Steve defended quickly.

Bucky laughed again, eyes perpetually rolling around Steve. When Bucky had said he would teach Steve how to swim, Steve had put up a good fight. He knew how to swim, thank you very much. He didn’t need a teacher to do something all the other kids already knew how to do. That was until Bucky challenged him to a race and he took too long coming up with a good excuse. So Bucky had been giving him lessons for about a month and they spent practically every waking moment at the neighborhood pool.

“You gotta relax.” Bucky said, “your arms and legs are moving all over the place. And every time you breathe you bring your whole chest out of the water like you think you’re gonna drown. It makes the rest of you sink underwater. It’s a balance, see?” Bucky explained what he meant by flattening his hand in a horizontal line and moving it side-to-side like a seesaw. “When one side goes up, the other goes down! You gotta keep ‘em both the same.”

Steve tilted his head slightly, trying to picture Bucky’s hand as his small, scrawny body, struggling in the water. He didn’t remember raising his whole front out of the water; he remembered barely being able to free his mouth to take a breath. Still, he nodded solemnly, as though taking this advice to heart. He hoped Bucky couldn’t see the trepidation in his eyes.

Bucky did, of course, but would never say so.

Steve eyes brightened, remembering, “You think I’ll be able to join the team soon?”

Bucky shrugged and looked down. “I don’t know. You have to be able to go back and forth, only stopping for a second at the wall.”

Steve thought about making a return trip after his first terrifying lap and felt a familiar feeling in his stomach, like he was going to be sick. He looked down, watching water drip from his swim shorts, making obscure patterns in the hot concrete, fiddling with his hand-me-down goggles the entire time.

Bucky’s face quickly brightened after his first look at Steve’s face. “But we just have to keep practicing! I mean you’re already halfway there,” Bucky pointed out helpfully.

Steve chuckled and shrugged his small, bony shoulders, “Yeah, I guess.”

Steve couldn’t help but think about Bucky and all of the other kids on the swim team. They just looked so cool, swimming back and forth for hours, like little fish. He could see the freedom in the way they moved throughout the water and he wanted to feel that too.

He wanted to swim with strength and confidence like they did. He wanted to be the fastest on the team. Or just fast enough to keep up with Bucky.

_________

** _May 27_ ** ** _th_ ** ** _ 2018_ **

Bucky sighed and glanced out the window, his surroundings becoming more and more recognizable as he made his way closer to town. It had been a long drive but he insisted on driving all the way from Brooklyn to his tiny hometown in the middle-of-nowhere Indiana. He refused the plane ticket offered by his mother not only for the reason he gave her–it was unnecessary–but also for a more selfish reason. He couldn’t spend the entire summer at home with no car. He valued his independence and his time alone above all else.

He didn’t mean to sound harsh. He was genuinely excited to see his mom and sister again. It had been a long year and only seeing them once when they flew up over winter break had been unexpectedly difficult for him. But he never regretted moving away for university. After what happened during his last summer, it was a welcome break. A fresh start. He had done well in his first three years in university.

He had a rough go of it at first, almost dropping out in his first year. But meeting Natasha and Maria had changed everything for him. He found _ his people _and nothing had ever felt better. He moved out of the drab dorm room that he shared with Frat Boy Rob and into a light and airy Brooklyn apartment with Natasha and Maria. They filled it with artwork and plants and a cat named Alpine and his headspace began to mimic his environment.

He made new friends, was able to come out to them, and even dated a few guys, though no one at home knew any of this. As far as his mom knew, he was always studying, working hard towards his engineering degree.

“James,” his mother had sighed through the phone during one of their weekly talks, “I’m so proud of how well you’re doing in school. I just want to make sure you’re remembering to live your life. I never hear you talk about any of your friends.” 

Buky had just rolled his eyes, knowing she couldn’t see him. “I am, Mom, I promise. I have friends.” Bucky knew how much his mother worried about him, but he also knew how important it was for him to make her proud. She didn’t actually want to hear about what he did in his spare time, it would only disappoint her.

He spoke to his dad as often as he ever did, which is to say they texted once a month, maybe twice if it was around the holidays or if his dad was feeling guilty. He texted his dad to remind him of Becca’s birthday or her school events but that was about it. His dad didn’t ask about his social life and he didn’t offer it up.

Bucky shook the thoughts from his head and focused on the road ahead of him. It was useless, though, as memories continued to flood his mind as he drove through town. It brought with it a weird feeling of nostalgia mixed with a deep feeling of discomfort. He knew this place better than anywhere else in the world and yet it felt like stepping into a bad dream. This town was an ocean of his own personal unresolved issues and he was being pushed in head-first.

Summer had brought suffocating, humid heat and bright, lush green to the dense trees and miles of corn fields. He passed by the doughnut shop he and Becca used to bike to before school, the sickly sweet glaze sticking to their handlebars long after the pastries had disappeared. The barber shop where he used to get his hair cut with his dad. The old church his parents used to drag him to every weekend, its imposing steeple and bright red brick identical to every other corner in town. The break in the trees behind the baseball fields, which Bucky knew lead to the best spot on the river, where he used to go swimming with Steve.

Steve.

He knew this would happen. He had tried to convince himself he could make it through the summer without thinking about Steve. He knew it was impossible. This town had Steve’s face–his stupid, freckled, indignant face begging for an argument–stamped all over it. He tried to convince himself now that he was only thinking about Steve because of all the memories of them here. It was only natural. He was being reminded of Steve the way you’re reminded of fall when you smell warm apple cider. Steve was just warm apple cider.

He almost convinced himself.

Bucky’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as he finally pulled into the parking lot of his old neighborhood pool, the boring brick building an exact replica of the one he remembered. The place was falling apart and always had been. The body of memories surged and swelled like a living thing, steadily rising above sea level. He chose not to dwell on it.

He could’ve made this easier on himself and driven home one or two days _ before _his first scheduled staff meeting at the pool like any sane person would do. But Bucky Barnes was not sane. He was a little absurd, okay? And he was just fine with that. He didn’t want to be home one second longer than he needed to be so he arrived exactly when he had to–actually, ten minutes early, thank you very much.

He pulled the hood of his worn, grey sweatshirt above his head and got out of his old, beat-up Camry. His attempts at hiding were maybe a little bit dramatic when the temperature outside was pushing 90, but at least he was wearing shorts. He could already feel his hair begin to curl at the first touch of humidity and was instantly thankful for the hoodie. He tucked the longer strands not tied up in his bun back into his sweatshirt.

He sighed as he thought about the next three months. It couldn’t be that bad. He didn’t mind hanging out at the pool all summer, in fact he thought he would enjoy it. Sitting alone in the sun all day watching people swim–it wasn’t the worst summer job. Working at Starbucks in midtown Manhattan was absolutely the worst summer job and he knew this from experience.

Even still, Bucky would’ve taken being yelled at for latte foam over spending three months back home any day, but things didn’t work out that way. He and his two best friends were being kicked out of their apartment for renovations at the end of May. They had found the perfect replacement–a dream apartment really, but it didn’t open up until August. Because Bucky knew the importance of a good living space, he had agreed to wait. But this meant he had to find both a job and a place to live for the three months in between.

As he anticipated, this proved impossible. Maria, as always, had the perfect solution.

“You know there’s a clear answer to all of this,” Maria had said, watching Bucky fling applications across the living room floor. Bucky was sprawled out, notebook in hand, studying apartment listings and job requirements, trying to make it all work.

“No, I really don’t.” Bucky said petulantly, ignoring her stare from the couch above him.

“Bucky would you quit being so dramatic?” Natasha griped from her position in Maria’s lap. “You lived there all your life. It just can’t be that bad. Plus I go there every year and work the sweetest, easiest job on the planet.”

“You didn’t grow up there, Nat. It’s different.”

“I did!” Maria reminded him, looking at him like he had grown an extra head, “and it is seriously not that bad.”

“Yeah and you still moved away,” he added smugly, as if he had made some kind of point. Maria rolled her eyes. “That place is full of assholes.”

“How dare you insult the place Sam Wilson grew up.”

“Sam Wilson is a national treasure, I will give you that.”

“You know Nick will give you a job if you ask,” Maria said. She added quietly, “and I know for a fact your mom would be thrilled to see you for an entire summer.”

Bucky gave her a look. “Don’t use my guilt to get me to do things, Maria.”

Natasha piped up once more, “We will use whatever we need to use to get your dumb ass to stop making dumbass decisions.” Her tone left no room for argument and Bucky knew it. “Now pack your shit, we’re going to Indiana.”

Bucky shoulders slumped, knowing he had lost. Maria threw up her hands and whooped. She started singing _ Mamma Mia _, dancing wildly around the room. She grabbed Bucky’s arms and pulled him up to dance with her. He laughed and went along helplessly. Natasha giggled while she recorded them from the couch.

Maria had been begging him for the past three summers to come back to their hometown, like she and Nat did every summer. Maria and Bucky had gone to the same high school and even swam on the swim team together, but as Maria was a year older they didn’t really know each other during school.

It’s not that Bucky didn’t want to spend the summer with his two best friends or his mom and sister–that part sounded great. There were just _ certain people _he would have rather avoided. But he knew he would love being a lifeguard and would love working with Coach Fury again.

Speaking of grumpy, old swim coaches, Nick Fury looked up from his desk as Bucky leaned into the doorway of his office.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Nick Fury said slowly, leaning back in his office chair. “The man, the myth, the legend: Bucky Barnes” he said, a grin making its way across his face.

“Hey, Nick” Bucky grinned back, quickly reminding himself that while Nick Fury may be old and grumpy, he was also gracious enough to give Bucky a job on very short notice.

“Never thought I’d see the day,” his coach said, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the desk.

“You sure hoped you wouldn’t,” Bucky answered with a laugh, sitting down in the lumpy chair facing Nick’s desk. Bucky was surprised at how little his coach had changed. Nick Fury was an older man, bald with dark skin and a serious, no-nonsense face. He still wore the maroon polo Bucky remembered vividly from his childhood, the black ‘Greenbriar Barracudas' logo familiar in the corner, a shining silver whistle hanging from his neck.

“And that’s Coach Fury to you, kid” Fury said with a pointed look.

Bucky smirked, “I haven’t called you Coach Fury since I was nine, Nick.”

“Alright fine call me whatever you want,” Nick said without putting up a fight. “I like the hair. How’s school going? Did you say hi to your mom for me?”

Bucky shrugged, “School is fine. Haven’t seen my mom yet.”

Nick gave him a confused look, “How long have you been in town?”

Bucky glanced at the clock. “How long have we been talking?”

Nick gave him a pointed look and then shook his head, as if deciding against whatever lecture he had planned. Bucky was grateful. “What are you doing here so early anyway? The Bucky Barnes Schedule usually runs 20 minutes behind the rest of the world.”

Bucky gave a short laugh, glancing down at his hands in embarrassment. “Well, you know,” he said with a shrug, “I wanted to impress my new boss.”

“Alright then, Mr. Employee of the Month, let’s get started.”

Bucky followed Nick Fury down the hall. The cement floor and cinder block walls painted white hadn't changed since he'd been gone. To a kid who'd spent more time in the pool then out of it, the overwhelming smell of chlorine was welcoming rather than harsh.

They rounded the corner and came upon the small break room, several round cafeteria-style tables took up most of the space while a small kitchenette and an old, lumpy couch sat in the back.

Bucky recognized a few people as he walked in: some younger kids who had been on the swim team or gone to his high school, some neighborhood kids he had known all his life, a few he didn't recognize. He quickly chose a seat in the back next to Natasha.

“Thought you weren't gonna show,” she said without looking up from her phone. They had driven separate. As the girls weren’t avoiding the town, they arrived a week earlier than Bucky to have some time to relax before the season started.

“Just because I don’t want to be here doesn’t mean I’m gonna act like it, Nat.” Bucky mumbled, pulling out his own phone.

“Glad to hear it.”

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Bucky asked, looking around.

Natasha shrugged. “Off being sociable, I’m sure.”

Bucky slumped back into his chair and yawned. He was tired from the drive and not looking forward to the two hour meeting. He started going over all the summer work he had to do for school in his head–research projects and applications for internships–before a loud voice broke him out of his thoughts.

“Rogers!”

It was Maria’s voice, that he was sure of. Loud and excited, distinct amongst the others. But that wasn’t what shocked his heart like a defibrillator, it was what she said. His eyes shot to the direction of her voice and his heart stopped mid-beat.

He knew he was going to see Steve at some point this summer, but not _here, _not _this_ _soon._

He looked like a goddamn dream, standing there smiling, ripped as ever, arms literally bulging out of his sleeves. He looked distinctly older. His hair was longer and pushed back and he had a _ beard. _An honest-to-god full length, dark brown beard straight out of Bucky’s fantasies. His muscles flexed as he picked Maria up in an enthusiastic hug.

“Did she know he was going to be here?” Bucky asked sharply.

Natasha shrugged. “I don’t even know who that is.” She was lying, poorly, and Bucky could tell but he didn’t have enough brain power to fight her on it.

Mixed in between Bucky’s indisputable thirst was an overwhelming feeling of dread. He wasn’t ready for this. He didn’t want this. He had no desire to see Steve or talk to Steve or be in Steve’s gorgeous presence. His heart still ached with the pain of their last conversation, the icy words irrevocably carved into his brain. And Steve clearly didn’t want to see him either. If he had any regrets or anything to say about their fight, he would’ve called by now. It had been _ three years _ for god’s sake. Bucky didn’t want anything to do with him. He was _ over it. _

Steve’s eyes shot up at something Maria said and landed directly on his.

He was not over it.

His heart pounded unrelentingly as Steve stared at him. He stared back. Steve started to walk towards him. _ No, no, no. I’m not ready for this. I can’t do it. _Steve reached his table.

“Bucky.”

“Steve.”

A beat.

“I didn’t know you were going to be here,” Steve said quietly.

Bucky panicked. He didn’t have a plan. He didn't know what to say. He could open up to Steve, embrace the embarrassment. Tell him he was sorry; that he regretted every word, regretted the way he had made Steve feel. Regretted not calling.

Or he could pretend that what Steve had said to him hadn’t even left a mark. Like it hadn’t cut him to the bone. Pretend like he was over what had happened. Like he hadn’t agonized over it every night for the past three years. He made his decision easily.

“Likewise,” he said coldly, shooting Maria a glance.

“Do you guys know each other?” she asked innocently.

“Yeah, we uh–” Steve stumbled over his words, “we used to hang out all the time.”

“A long time ago,” Bucky added, his face completely blank. Silence enveloped them.

“Hey Natasha,” Steve finally said, smiling softly at her.

“Hey Stevie,” she responded, grinning up at him. Bucky bristled at the nickname. That used to be _ his thing. _

Whatever. Clearly Steve was close to a lot of people now. As he should be. But Bucky was definitely going to have a talk later with his supposed best friends, about the information they knew and their willingness to share it with Bucky. Steve and Natasha started to catch up. Bucky focused on a very interesting smudge on the concrete until a ridiculously loud voice caught his attention again.

“Is that Barnes?!” Sam Wilson’s voice boomed from the front of the room and Bucky chuckled as he got closer. “Barnes, James Barnes? 007 himself in my presence?”

Bucky laughed, looking down in embarrassment as he got up to hug his old friend. “Hey, Sam.”

“_Hey Sam? _ That’s all I get? Man, I haven’t heard from you in _ weeks. _I was wondering how the Great Apartment Hunt of 2019 was working out but I guess I got my answer.”

Bucky laughed. “Yeah I decided to join Nat and Maria for the summer”

“More like we dragged him kicking and screaming,” Nat added helpfully. Bucky glared at her.

“Well, either way, it’s good to see you.” Sam said sincerely.

“You too, man.”

Unlike Steve, Bucky spoke to Sam regularly, if only briefly. He never lost contact with his other childhood best friend and he was thankful for it, even if it didn’t go much further than update texts and funny jokes back and forth. Bucky pointedly ignored all references to Steve and Sam got the picture pretty quickly, even though he didn't know why. Bucky knew that Sam came home every summer to see his family but he didn't know _ Steve came with him. _ That would've been nice to know, he thought bitterly. He ignored the voice in his head reminding him that their unspoken No-Steve-Talk agreement was, in fact, his idea and continued to be bitter about the whole situation.

“Alright,” the loudest voice yet echoed throughout the room. “Are we gonna start this or what? I’ve got places to be.” Nick Fury took his position at the front of the room, clipboard in hand, stern look perfectly in place.

As Nick droned on about certifications and scheduling, Bucky couldn’t break his eyes away from the back of Steve’s head. His hair was darker but there were still shades of blonde mixed in naturally. His shoulders were massive now. But his face was still as punch-able as the last time he saw it.

How was he supposed to spend an entire summer next to Steve Rogers and not internally combust or completely break down? Nat and Maria had to know he was going to be here–he was clearly a regular. But they didn’t know about his and Steve’s past. He had mentioned having a falling out with his best friend from high school but never mentioned a name.

Back in New York, Bucky tried to think about Steve as little as possible but he still popped into his head every once in a while. Whenever he walked past the Met or saw someone sketching in the park. When someone mentioned Steve’s favorite movie or he smelled Steve’s cologne on someone else. He was instantly transported back to summertime and shyness, belly laughs and days spent in the water. Cruel words and bruised spirits. His Steve. Like he could ever forget.

But he couldn’t leave now. If his mom had taught him anything it was to stick to his commitments and no way was he going to disappoint Nick Fury. He would just have to avoid Steve as much as possible and get through it. Just get through it. He could do that much. Maybe.


	3. Chapter 3

** _August 31_****_st_ ** ** _, 2004_ **

“Alaska's not a bad place to live!”

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asked, incredulously, “Alaska's the worst. It's snowing all the time and no humans live there!”

It was summer, and Bucky was relentless.

“That's not so bad!” Steve insisted. “You could learn to ski and play in the snow all the time and not have to worry about other people bothering you. It’d be like your own kingdom” he said, with all the wisdom a third-grader could muster.

It was mid-day in the middle of August, and the boys sat on the scorching hot asphalt leaning back against the brick of their school building, squeezing into the short piece of shade it provided. They had both grown several inches but Steve remained the lanky, freckled boy Bucky had met two summers ago. Bucky’s hair curled at the tips, almost soaked with sweat from the heat.

Bucky shook his head, “Fine. So that's Alaska and Hawaii. Where's a place you hate? You have to have one you hate.”

“What? Why?” Steve asked indignantly.

“Because that's the rules of the game Stevie!”

“Those are dumb rules.”

Bucky secretly agreed that the rules of this new game ‘MASH’ were, indeed, dumb, but that didn’t stop him from enforcing them. The fourth graders had recently taught Steve and Bucky’s class how to play and they were absolutely enamored with predicting their future. But if Bucky had to endure the other kids laughing about him driving his garbage truck to his shack of a home, then Steve could pick a crappy place to live.

Of course, Steve had quickly taken up for Bucky, righteously telling the other kids that garbage trucks are huge and cool and a shack is like your very own fort in the woods and _ you guys would never be cool enough for that anyways, _but Bucky wasn’t thinking about that part.

“It's so that sometimes you get Hawaii and you win and sometimes you get a crappy place and you lose. That’s why,” Bucky explained simply.

“But I don't hate any places” Steve said with a shrug. One look at Bucky’s exasperated expression had him hurrying to fix his answer. “Okay, okay fine! I'll pick Michigan since you don't like it there.”

“I just didn't like it because I had nobody to play with,” Bucky mentioned quietly, referring to the miserable vacation his family had taken several years earlier. Steve shrugged and motioned for Bucky to write his answer down.

The boys continued through the rest of the categories, creating possibilities both great and terrible.

“Okay so that's a Mustang, a Ferrari, and a tractor for your car” Bucky listed, his pencil dangling loosely from his grip. “Next. Who you gonna marry?”

“Oh, we can skip that one” Steve said with a dismissive wave.

“Why?”

“Because I'm marrying _ you _, dummy.”

Bucky stared at him, his eyebrows pinched together in his usual expression of bewilderment. “You can’t marry me!”

“Says who?” Steve demanded. “You’re my best friend and we hang out all the time! Why would I want to live with somebody else? We’d never get to play together!”

Bucky wracked his brain for an answer. He didn’t know if there was an actual _ rule _ against marrying your best friend and getting to live with Steve _ did _sound pretty cool.

“Everybody says!” was all he could come up with. “Boys can’t marry other boys!”

“Sure they can,” Steve said, “Brady said his aunt married another girl and that boys can do the same thing.”

“Yeah but Brady’s a liar,” Bucky shot back.

Steve shrugged, as if to say, _ yeah, I’ll give you that one. _“Well,” Steve huffed, “nobody can tell me who to be friends with. Remember last year when Mrs. Ziegler told us we couldn’t be friends because we caused too much trouble? Look how that turned out.”

“We only got to stay friends because I convinced Mrs. Ziegler to let us stay late for detention instead of moving us to different classrooms.” Bucky pointed out.

“Well,” Steve shrugged one shoulder, a flop of blonde bangs grown too long falling into his eyes, “It still worked out.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Fine. We’ll skip the marriage one. Let’s just get this over with.”

Steve could convince anyone of anything, except for Bucky. He could convince the teachers not to give him detention for yelling at bullies, he could convince the other kids to change the rules of whatever game they were playing, but Bucky always saw right through him. He didn’t fall for any of it. And yet, Bucky couldn’t deny him anything. He shot back retorts that would end every one of Steve’s arguments and still, Steve got what he wanted. Bucky knew what he was doing and was powerless to stop it.

That day, Steve ended up with a home in Michigan, working as a professional football player, with a Mustang and his husband Bucky by his side.

**_________**

**_May 28_ ** ** _th_ ** ** _, 2018_**

Steve huffed and rubbed the towel roughly over his face. He scrubbed through his beard and over his cheeks, as if he could solve his problems through skin exfoliation alone. He stepped out of the shower and the blanket of hot steam curled around him. He sighed.

You know when you run into someone you used to know and everything clicks? It's been a long time since you've seen them but you start talking and it's as if nothing has changed at all. You fall into an old rhythm, the words come easily and the laughs come easier. There's an electricity in the air, something more than familiarity.

Yeah, this was not like that.

Never in his life did he think he would have such an awkward, uncomfortable conversation with Bucky. Even during the three years they'd been apart he never thought it would be this weird. He wasn't even sure what he expected but it wasn't this. He had never seen that look in Bucky’s eyes directed at him. A look of shock, at first, that then morphed into a look of such apathy and contempt it made Steve wonder if this was even the same kid he grew up with.

Steve suffered through the rest of the staff meeting trying to bring his heart rate down to a more acceptable level while thinking so hard about not thinking about Bucky that all he could think about was Bucky. Thank god he had already sat through three of these meetings in years past because his brain was clearly malfunctioning.

The next morning Steve woke up even earlier than usual and hit the pool for his workout. While he was required to exercise regularly as a lifeguard, the workouts were nothing compared to his usual schedule. He flew through additional sets, his mind moving twice as fast as his body. Usually he loved a workout when his anxiety was overtaking him. He craved the calm quiet of the water. It gave him the space and time to sort through his thoughts and clear his head. Today, though, he resented the silence. He needed a distraction.

Steve dressed quickly and went into the kitchen of their small apartment to find Sam drinking orange juice straight from the bottle. The athletic shorts and sweat drying on his forehead told Steve he had just come back from his morning run. Sam was just as dedicated as Steve to staying in shape but was less enthusiastic about waking up early to do it.

Their apartment was small but Steve liked to think of it as cozy. The living room and kitchen were basically the same room with only a small bar to separate them. Two bedrooms branched out from either side, which was their saving grace. Steve and Sam had shared a room their freshman year of college and they had never bickered more in their life. As they were getting this apartment for free, they would’ve been happy with anything, but having their own space didn’t hurt.

“Can’t you use a glass?” Steve asked, glancing at the bottle touching Sam’s lips with a frown.

“No.” Sam said simply. He looked annoyed but handed Steve a plate piled high with bacon and pancakes and Steve grinned appreciatively. Their bickering was always good-natured and even when it wasn’t, their fights didn’t last long.

Steve sat down on a stool at the bar and started eating like it was his last meal. His extra sets this morning had made him absolutely ravenous.

Sam eyed him warily and leaned against the bar facing Steve. He had already finished his breakfast. “So are we going to talk about this?”

“What?” Steve asked casually, mouth half full of food.

Sam just glared at him. “The fact that our best friend is back and staying for the entire summer and you two can’t crap out two words to each other.”

Steve pointedly ignored all but the first part and said sweetly, “Come on Sammie, you know you’re my best friend.”

“I told you I hate that name. And Bucky was our best friend for _ years _until you two mysteriously stopped speaking to each other for no reason at all.” Sam said, disbelief clear in his tone.

“Sam I told you, nothing–”

“Yeah, yeah I know. Nothing happened. Except we both know that's bullshit.”

“If you want to know what happened you can talk to Bucky.” Steve said petulantly.

“That's funny because every time I ask him he says I need to talk to you. It's this vicious cycle of never getting any information.”

“I don't know what to tell you Sam.”

“And usually this is where I would drop it. Because usually your emotional constipation doesn't affect much more than your one night stands. But if I'm gonna survive an entire summer around my two best friends who have suddenly gone mute, I deserve to know why.”

Steve sighed and looked down at his plate. “We got into a fight at that graduation party we all went to. He made it pretty damn clear he wanted nothing to do with me.” Steve paused and pushed his food around. “So I've left him alone. And that's what I'm going to continue to do. So you have nothing to worry about,” he said simply.

“Mhmm,” Sam huffed disbelievingly. “Except you've never left anything alone in your life. Anytime you have a problem with someone I can’t get you to shut up. You won’t talk about your feelings but you go after them like it’s your job. So what’s different this time?”

Steve didn’t appreciate Sam’s half-assed psychoanalysis of him but he didn’t think that this was the time to tell him that. He also didn't want to think about the ways in which Sam was right. “There’s just nothing left to say, Sam. It’s done.”

“Right. I can't wait to see you _ not _ say anything at all. That's a very _ Steve _ thing to do.” Sam said sarcastically.

“Great! Glad we had this talk,” Steve said, bitterness dripping from his voice. He stood and took his empty plate to the sink.

Sam sighed and left to shower and change. Steve curled up on the couch and busied himself with his sketchbook until it was time to leave for their first shifts. He refused to think about who the figure he drew might resemble. Sam walked back into the living room in his red guard shorts and white tank and Steve jumped, snapping his sketchbook closed. He stood up and tried to avoid Sam’s raised brow by searching for his sunglasses. 

“That's what you're wearing?” Sam asked.

Steve looked down at his red swim shorts and white T-shirt. _ Okay _so his shorts were a little shorter than most. Or a lot shorter. They stopped just before mid-thigh, hugging his leg snuggly. They were loose around his groin but not by much. His T-shirt was also a size too small but he liked the way it squeezed his arms. He was going to take it off anyways, once he got to the pool.

He looked up at Sam and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, why?”

Sam just shook his head and walked out the front door. “You are such a slut, Steve,” he heard Sam say. He opened his mouth to respond but closed it quickly. There wasn't much of an argument to make.

_______

A few hours later, Steve sat sweating in the sun, waiting impatiently for a shift change. He’d been watching the deep end for almost an hour and Bucky sitting in the chair across the pool for just as long. His sunglasses provided some measure of cover but he was sure it was obvious where his gaze went every couple seconds. He took his job seriously because there was a lot at stake, which is why his eyes were starting to hurt from flicking back and forth between the kids in front of him and his ridiculously attractive ex-best-friend sitting across the pool.

He waved at the kid on the diving board waiting his turn and then glanced over at Bucky. He was slouched effortlessly in his chair, his legs stretched out and spread wide. He wore typical red swim shorts that reached slightly above his knee and no shirt. He wasn’t overly muscular but he was lean and clearly strong. He wasn’t very tan but Steve knew that changed quickly after a few weeks in the sun. He hated how well he knew that. Sunglasses covered his eyes and his hair was pulled back in another half-bun. _ That was another thing. _ Who did Bucky think he was growing his hair out like this? He had never mentioned wanting to grow it out and Steve had never thought about it but it draped softly over his shoulders and framed his face like it was always meant to be there. Steve hated it.

Bucky had a relaxed, if not bored, expression on his face. He nodded at each kid when it was their turn to jump. He blew his whistle at the kids jumping in too soon. He was the picture perfect lifeguard and looked as if he couldn’t care less who was sitting 20 feet away from him. Steve hated it.

It was Memorial Day; opening day of the pool and one of the busiest of the season. The pool was crawling with kids and adults alike, pulsing with the restless excitement of summer. Parents relaxed in lawn chairs while kids yelled at them from the water to watch their cannon balls. Teenagers hung out by the concession stand, eating ice cream and talking instead of swimming. Bucky watched kids take turns front-flipping and swan-diving and Steve, inevitably, watched Bucky.

Eventually, Maria came to relieve Bucky from his post and he hopped down from the chair gracefully, back muscles flexing as he gripped the sides and climbed down the small ladder. Steve didn’t notice, of course.

“Whatcha’ lookin’ at?” Steve jumped at the voice suddenly behind him.

He turned to find Natasha looking up at him, squinting at the sun with a small smirk on her lips. He looked at the pool and then back to her. “Nothing,” he said. “The kids. The people. Swimming.” _ God I’m an idiot, _ he thought _ . _

“Uh-huh,” Natasha said slowly. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and athletic shorts hung loosely from her hips over her bright red one-piece. Steve looked back at Bucky’s chair and noticed it was now occupied by Maria. He looked back at the diving board and nodded at the kid who had probably been waiting way too long for his turn. _ This was going to be a long summer. _

“You gonna get down?” Natasha said from below him.

“Oh shit,” Steve said, dumbly. “Yeah sorry.” Of course Natasha was here to switch with him, not give him shit for looking at Bucky. He got up quickly and jumped down from the chair, skipping the ladder altogether.

As he turned to leave Natasha said cryptically, “You should talk to him. You never know what might happen.”

Steve shook his head, exasperated at other people inserting themselves into his problems. “He doesn’t want to talk to me, Nat.”

“Uh-huh,” she said again. Steve rolled his eyes and walked away. Natasha was great. Steve had only known her for a few summers but she had fit right in. She was funny and sarcastic and could win pretty much any argument she started, even against Steve. But sometimes she looked at Steve like she had a better idea of what was going on in his head than he did. Which wasn’t saying much, since Steve didn’t even know what he was thinking half the time, but still.

As he made his way into the breakroom, Steve welcomed the cool waves of AC washing over his warm skin and flushed cheeks. He grabbed his bottle from the fridge and took a few drinks of the ice cold water. He felt a drop trickle down his neck and onto his bare chest. He turned then and saw Bucky sitting in the corner of the room, finally looking at Steve. His eyes instantly moved away and his focus turned to his phone.

Steve turned awkwardly and sat down at another table. The room was empty and Steve focused on the hum of the air conditioner and the screams of kids that drifted through the cracked windows. He glanced back at Bucky who was still looking intently at his phone.

Steve could feel something bubbling up in his chest. _ He wasn’t going to talk to Bucky. _ He wasn’t going to be the first to break. He was still desperately angry at Bucky and was intent on holding his grudge. He had gone three years waiting for Bucky to call and apologize or yell at him or say something, _ anything, _ and he had gotten nothing. So he could wait a little longer.

“So,” Steve said. _ Damn it. _“It’s funny.” He literally could not stop himself.

Bucky looked up at him blankly. “What is?” His voice was low and gruff, much deeper than when they were children. His stubble was still shocking to Steve but not in a bad way. _ Definitely not in a bad way, _the voice in the back of his head said.

“We’ve had pretty much the same schedule all day,” he said lamely. _ God I’m an idiot. Why is that funny? _

Bucky stared at him, face unmoving. “Uh-huh.” He looked back down at his phone.

The silence stretched around them, thick and awkward. Steve ran his hand through his beard reflexively.

Suddenly a booming voice broke the silence. “Steeeeve!” He jumped and looked up to see Clint Barton bounding into the room.

“Hey man,” he said easily, laughing at the way Clint ran over to him, trying and failing to dodge all the chairs in his way.

“Ow, shit” he mumbled as his hip caught the edge of a table. He landed in front of Steve and threw his arms around him. “Steve! I didn’t think you’d be back!”

Steve laughed, “I’m here every summer, Clint.” Clint was a tall, lean guy with shaggy blonde hair. He was a little nuts, but overall a fun guy.

Clint nodded and glanced around the room, “Yeah I guess that’s–holy shit is that Bucky? Bucky! Hey it’s Clint!”

Bucky had seen Clint’s attempts to gracefully enter the room and laughed at Clint’s childlike excitement. “Yeah I remember, Clint. How’s it going?” He got up and gave Clint a hug and Steve definitely didn’t dwell on the fact that he was the only one who hadn’t gotten a hug from Bucky Barnes.

“Good! How are you? What are you doing back here? Are you working here? Aren’t you still in New York?” Clint fired off questions excitedly.

Bucky just chuckled and looked down shyly. “Yeah I’m good. I’m still in New York, just came back for the summer. I live with Maria and Natasha.”

They continued to catch up for a while, Bucky telling Clint about his engineering major and their Brooklyn apartment and _ yes New York pizza really is the best pizza. _

“I knew it.” Clint said solemnly.

Steve tried to cover up the way he listened closely for every detail about Bucky he could get. He was just curious, that was all. He hadn’t seen the guy in a while.

“What about you, Steve?” Clint turned to him. “Still killin’ it in the windy city? What were you studying? Art history right?”

“Yeah, it’s going good I–”

Suddenly Bucky cut him off. “Art history?”

Steve stopped mid-sentence and looked at Bucky. His mind went blank. He wasn’t sure if he didn’t understand the question or if he was just shocked Bucky was talking to him. “Yeah?” he said uncertainly.

“I thought you were supposed to be painting? Fine arts or whatever.” Bucky asked. His gaze was as intense as ever, his face serious, his eyes piercing. It was the same look he gave every time Steve came up with a ridiculous plan or got into a fight he had no hope of winning.

Steve looked down and shuffled his feet. “Well, yeah” he started, “I started out in Fine Arts. But this had a lot more opportunity and decent job security so I decided to switch.”

Bucky just looked at him skeptically, without nodding or giving Steve any kind of reassurance. It was unnerving. “So you’re not making any actual art?”

“Um,” Steve hesitated. “No. Not really.”

“But you hate art history.”

Steve flinched. “No I don’t. I love history.”

“Yeah you love _ history. _ Not art history. You hate talking about art without making it. You got pissed anytime we went to a museum and didn’t have your sketchbook with you.”

Steve recoiled at his tone. Who was he to pretend he knew who Steve was? He didn’t want anything to do with him for three years but now he had advice for Steve’s career?

“That was a long time ago, Bucky.” he said bitterly. He tried hard not to think about the last time he went to a museum and if he brought his sketchbook or not.

“So I guess you’ve just changed fundamentally in three years?” Bucky asked with contempt.

“Yeah I guess so” Steve said sarcastically. They stared at each other for a moment before Clint broke the silence.

“So,” he pursed his lips and pointed between Steve and Bucky standing on either side of him. “I think I missed something here.”

At that moment, the other lifeguards burst into the breakroom, mercifully breaking the silence and the tension. It was a scheduled break and they all milled about, chatting and grabbing snacks from the kitchen. Sam and Maria were arguing back and forth about a show they both watched and Natasha came over to say hi to Clint. Steve finally broke Bucky’s gaze and looked around the room awkwardly, trying to hide his irritation. Bucky sat down and went back to his phone.

One guard, a new guy, was going around asking if anyone could cover his shift in a few days. _ And so it begins, _Steve thought bitterly; the never-ending shuffle and change of the schedule. Maria suggested they start a group chat and went around the room collecting phone numbers.

Later, Steve walked to his car with Sam, thankful to be away from the sun and the heat but mostly the huge crowds of people. He smelled faintly of chlorine and he could feel a slight sting on his skin from his first sunburn of the summer. His back ached from sitting in the chair all day but he walked on, trying desperately not to think about the phone that now contained a number for _ Bucky Barnes _ burning a hole in his pocket. This was going to be a long summer.


	4. Chapter 4

** _August 17_****_th_ ** ** _, 2010_ **

Steve liked to hum while he drew. He never really realized he was doing it, it just came naturally. It wasn’t a steady tune or a melody; just the odd part of a song that aimlessly found its way into his head. Sometimes, when he was alone, or with just Bucky, he would break out into the full chorus. He could hit the high notes pretty well, he thought.

He sketched a few lines as he sang the bridge to some new pop song. He could feel the rough bark of the oak tree pressing into his back but he didn’t mind. A cool breeze drifted through, took with it some of the humid heat hanging in the air. The cicadas hummed their never-ending sound of summer. He breathed in the fresh air.

They were lying beneath their favorite tree in the park behind their school waiting for Sam, and Steve could hear the screams of the soccer team practicing behind them. The boys had met Sam on their first day of middle school when he was the only one at the lunch table to laugh at their dumb joke. Their teachers said they had never seen three fourteen-year-olds as inseparable as Steve, Bucky, and Sam. On the days Steve and Bucky didn't have swim practice they would wait for Sam to finish with soccer practice. They didn't have to, but they would've just sat around the neighborhood waiting for Sam anyway. This was easier.

He felt an arm brush against his leg. He glanced down to look at Bucky, laying with his head perched against Steve’s thigh, eyes set deep in concentration.

“You’ve only got three minutes left,” Steve mentioned, unhelpfully. Bucky was doing some kind of puzzle, a ‘logic puzzle’ he called it, or was it an Einstein puzzle? _ That didn’t make any sense _, Steve thought. Either way, he was trying to break his record. Steve was keeping time diligently. He didn’t tell Bucky that he had given him a two minute head start.

“Gee, thanks, that helps” Bucky answered sarcastically. Steve wasn’t looking but he was sure he would’ve seen Bucky’s eyes roll if he was.

Steve couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m just keeping you updated!” he said innocently. Steve watched this time as Bucky rolled his eyes. His eyelashes were impossibly long, especially from this angle–longer than anyone else’s Steve had seen. They were really tricky to draw. Everytime he tried, they came out looking unrealistic. Steve steadied his hand as he drew the curve of the soft, dark lash again–this time making it slightly shorter. No, that wasn’t right. It made his eyes look ordinary and dull. And Bucky’s eyes were anything but dull.

“What are you concentrating so hard on? You’ve got your tongue out again.”

Steve blushed and quickly closed his mouth. Bucky started to sit up on his elbows, turning to peer funnily at the sketches in Steve’s lap. Steve tried to hide the way he shifted the papers around slowly, to cover up the unmistakable sketch of Bucky’s face scrunched up in concentration.

“Nothing. Just the trees over there. The leaves are really hard to get just right,” Steve lied, (not so) smoothly.

“Yeah, sure Michaelangelo. I’ve seen you draw leaves before. They never made you look like you were constipated.”

“Bucky, Michaelangelo was a sculptor and a painter. He didn’t sketch leaves.”

“You don’t know that,” Bucky interjected quickly. “He had to sketch. I’d say he probably sketched lots of naked bodies, if that ceiling has anything to say about it.”

_ Something Michaelangelo and I have in common, then, _ Steve thought, before shaking the thought from his head.

“Very insightful, Buck.” He relaxed back against the tree as Bucky laid back down, shifting his shoulders to rest more of his body on Steve’s leg. Steve could feel the grass brush against his leg and he swore to himself that that was what made him shudder.

He wasn’t sure why he hid this drawing from his best friend. He couldn’t think of a reason. He had always shown Bucky his sketches–even the ones of Bucky himself, when Steve asked him to pose so that he could practice. But this felt different. He hadn’t asked Bucky if he could draw him, he just started doing it. He didn’t even realize that’s what he was drawing until he finished the eyes and noticed the resemblance. He drew the sharp line of Bucky’s nose and added the few freckles on his forehead and it was too late.

Steve looked at the time and noticed it read 00:00, probably had for some time. “Time’s up,” Steve blurted out.

“Damn,” Bucky muttered, grabbing his pen from his mouth where he gripped it tensely between his teeth. Steve noticed the way his tongue darted out to wet his lips and wondered why they were so red.

“Next time, bud” Steve consoled him.

Bucky huffed and dropped the notebook to the ground. He dug through his backpack and pulled out his worn copy of ‘The Hobbit’ and sunk back to his spot on the ground, perhaps a little dramatically.

“I’m so glad you’re not taking it personally this time,” Steve said sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Bucky gave him a look, his deep blue eyes boring into Steve’s, “This is important Steve.”

Steve rolled his eyes and laughed, “I don’t understand how you can get more upset about those stupid puzzles than you do actual swim meets.”

Bucky whipped his head around. “First: they aren’t stupid puzzles. They’re incredibly difficult and I want to be able to solve them.” He relaxed back into Steve, shrugging his shoulders as he said, “And second: I do care about swim meets.”

Steve’s laugh shot out of his throat. “Sure. The fastest guy on the team who doesn’t even keep track of his times really cares.”

“Sure I do Stevie. They’re all up here,” Bucky said with a grin, pointing to his forehead. “And that’s how I know for a fact I’m not the fastest guy on the team. Rhodey has a better time in the IM _ and _ backstroke. And you beat my time last week in the hundred Fly. You’ll be the fastest before too long if you keep growing like that,” Bucky mentioned, without looking up from his book.

“Only if you keep teaching me.”

“When did I ever stop?”

Steve rolled his eyes again, leaning his head back to look at the limbs of the tree. They drifted back and forth, caught in the inhale and exhale of the Earth. He got tired of pretending to draw leaves, which he really couldn’t get right–that wasn’t a lie. He pulled out a new piece of paper and began to sketch mindlessly.

He watched Bucky in between strokes of his pencil. Bucky always had his lip caught between his teeth. He held the book in one hand while he fidgeted with his fingers in the other. Always nervous. He was desperately shy around other kids, but around Steve he was completely different. He was sarcastic and funny and completely honest.

Steve felt something move through his chest. It was like an emotion, but physical. It was warm and good. It got stronger the more he thought about Bucky. Steve thought about how lucky he was to have Bucky as a best friend. He watched other kids in school move from one group of friends to the next, heard about people getting in fights with their best friends and never talking again. But he always had Bucky. They always had Sam. He felt the feeling move through him, like happiness had taken a physical form.

He didn’t know how to explain what he was feeling but knew it was way too sappy to say out loud. 

Bucky shifted next to him, the ground finally becoming unbearable after an hour. He leaned against the tree and sent a glance to Steve’s sketchbook out of the corner of his eye.

“Whatcha drawing now?” he asked.

“Just a skyline,” Steve answered.

Bucky stared for a few moments and Steve could feel the brush of Bucky’s arm hair tickling his skin.

“I’ve always wanted to live in New York City,” Bucky mentioned quietly, still looking at the drawing.

Steve was surprised. He was, indeed, drawing the New York skyline but didn’t expect Bucky to recognize it. Geography wasn’t his strong suit, maybe the only thing he wasn’t good at.

“Me too. Can you imagine everything there is to do there? Restaurants, concerts, museums. I would go nuts.” Steve shook his head wistfully, imagining the possibilities.

“Uh, yeah like the natural history museum. Or Broadway! Unreal.”

“Or the freaking _ Met _, Bucky” Steve stressed wildly.

“Yeah sure, we’ll go see your paintings.” Bucky waved dismissively.

“I’ll only go to a Broadway show if you agree to go to _ at least _three art museums with me,” Steve bargained quickly.

Bucky was smart and he was a hell of a good athlete. But he appreciated art. And Broadway musicals were freaking art. He rolled his eyes, “Ugh, fine. But I get to pick the show.”

“Fine,” Steve smiled smugly. “And no touching the art,” Steve added with a laugh.

“Oh my god, Steve that was one time!” Bucky threw his head back and groaned.

Steve could barely contain himself, “Yeah but you touched three different paintings. You almost got us kicked out!”

“I didn’t mean to! They’re a lot closer than they look!”

Steve was full on belly-laughing now. “Sure, Buck.”

“Just wait Rogers. I’ll touch every single one of your paintings when they’re in that museum.” He said smugly. “I know which ones are yours and I’ll mess ‘em all up”

Steve rolled his eyes, “I don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon, Buck.”

Bucky’s face scrunched up in indignation, “Why not Steve? Your stuff is just as good as theirs, if not better. When we live in New York we’ll start putting your stuff in galleries. You’ll become super well known and you’ll be in the Met in no time.”

“Who said we’re living in New York?”

“I did,” answered Bucky easily. “We both want to live there so why not? We’ll go there for college and do all the fun stuff we wanted to do.”

“It’s not that simple, Bucky. My mom can’t exactly afford for me to live and go to school in New York.” Steve said quietly.

“That’s what scholarships are for,” Bucky said simply. “We’ll apply to a ton and see where we get in.”

Steve nodded slowly. “Alright but wherever we go we’ll go together. Even if it’s not New York.”

Bucky looked at him with the smile that made his chest burn in that weird, confusing way.

“Deal.”

“Where are you guys going without me?” They heard the voice of their other best friend suddenly walking up behind them.

Bucky snorted as Steve said, “Eh, we knew we could convince you to come, no matter where we were going. You'll move anywhere.”

Sam shrugged, a lopsided grin making its way onto his face. “Hey I'm an army brat–” Steve and Bucky cut in, shrugging their shoulders comically and mimicking him as he said, “I'm adaptable!” Steve and Bucky broke into fits of laughter, falling over each other as they cracked up.

Sam wasn't fazed. He gave another grin, this one suggestive, “Hey it's true. You guys wish you were as smooth as me.”

Bucky snorted and said, “Isn't that the truth,” just as Steve said, “Hah! You wish, Wilson.”

Sam’s grin didn't leave his face as he hitched his bag over his shoulder. “Come on you idiots. I wanna go to the river before it gets too dark. Frankie said he found some geodes the other day and I don't believe him.”

The boys hurried after Sam as he walked towards the parking lot where their bikes were locked up.

“Your rock obsession might be getting a little too deep if we're going to look for imaginary geodes now.” Steve mentioned.

“Just wait and see if I share my finds with you, Rogers,” Sam warned.

Steve grinned as he pushed off the asphalt and rode in line behind his two best friends. Sam might have thought he was smooth, but he was just as much of a dork as Steve and Bucky.

Steve felt happy and content, but had lost the intense feeling that had found him so suddenly under the tree. He shook his head and kept riding.

_________

** _June 10_****_th_ ** ** _, 2018_ **

“Bucky! Get up!”

Bucky rolled over and pulled his blanket up to cover his head in an attempt to shield himself from the shrill voice and pounding knocks outside his door.

“You’re supposed to drop me off at the coffee shop before you go to the pool!” The offensively loud voice of his sister yelled through the door. Bucky groaned and sank further into the bed.

Of course, any response at all would’ve been better than none when it came to his sister getting what she wanted. He should’ve known this but he was out of practice. She burst into the room and sat unceremoniously on his pillow, squishing the side of his face with her legs.

“Becca get off,” He groaned some more in protest.

“Bucky if you were already awake we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. I told you yesterday you had to drop me off at work before you left.” She sighed dramatically, “but no one remembers anything around here without me.”

“And you are clearly the pillar of strength and punctuality in this family but if you don’t get your butt off my face I won’t be driving you anywhere.”

Becca snorted and jumped off the bed. Bucky pulled the blanket off his head and glared at his sister through squinted, sleep-filled eyes. “You are the devil.”

She smiled sweetly at him. “Get out of bed.”

Becca had just turned 17 and was entering her final year of high school. That, of course, meant that she needed a job and a car and a life of her own. The only one she had secured so far was a job–working at a local coffee shop. And though she had a penchant for bursting into Bucky’s room unannounced, she was pretty much perfect in his eyes. She was sweet even to people who didn't deserve it, had hilariously terrible taste in music, and rocked a nose ring like you wouldn't believe. The only thing Bucky regretted about moving so far away was not seeing Becca as often. FaceTime could only do so much.

By the time Bucky had brushed his teeth and fallen into his work clothes he had barely 5 minutes to spare. He sauntered into the kitchen in shorts and a sweatshirt, his hood shielding him from as much as physically possible. Becca’s chin sat in one hand as she leaned on the kitchen bar, obnoxiously drumming her fingernails on the countertop. As he walked by her, Bucky knocked her arm out from under her chin causing her head to fall forward suddenly. He snickered and she reached out to whack the back of his head.

Their mom rolled her eyes and scolded them for their childishness. She was digging through her bag full of clipboards and paperwork, a half-eaten granola bar hanging out of her mouth.

“Why couldn’t mom take you?” Bucky asked through a yawn.

“Because I have a shift on the other side of town in 20 minutes,” his mom said, pulling the granola bar out of her mouth.

Bucky frowned. “I thought you just got off?”

“I did. Just finished my night shift at the hospital and now I’m going to see Mrs. Rivera.” She didn’t look up as she explained her ridiculous transition from night-shift ICU nurse to day-time home health nurse. Winifred Barnes was nothing if not hard working but she didn’t spend time dwelling on it.

Bucky nodded and added, “Alright well I work a double today so I’ll be back later tonight.”

Winifred looked at the clock. “You kids better get going, you're going to be late.” She reached up to grab Bucky’s neck to bring him down for a kiss on the cheek.

Bucky gasped. “Becca we’re gonna be late!” She tried to reach up and smack him again but he ducked out of the way. “God why are you always so irresponsible?” He mocked her sarcastically, trying to hold in his laughter. He grabbed his stuff and they headed out the door, pushing and tripping each other the whole way.

It was early-June and the miserable heat was really starting to take hold. Wildflowers bloomed at the edge of their yard that Bucky had been neglecting with the lawn mower and the huge oak tree that had been there as long as he could remember shaded the space generously. He drove down the familiar streets and the unchanging neighborhoods. They had become far less imposing in recent weeks and he was relieved. While things at the pool were still awkward and tense to say the least, he hadn’t yet been forced to discuss his personal life. People had mostly left him alone, which he was grateful for. He still didn't feel _ comfortable _ but he felt less _ terrified _.

He fidgeted with the strings of his hoodie absentmindedly as he tried not to think about all the reasons to be terrified. Becca noticed, of course.

“When are you going to stop wearing that? It's absurdly hot. And you look sloppy.”

“It's comfortable,” is all Bucky could come up with. He tugged self-consciously on the edges around his face.

“It's ridiculous” was Becca’s reply.

“Yeah well so is that dress. What is this, 1992?” Bucky added petulantly. He glanced over at her black, knee-length dress with spaghetti straps layered over a simple white t-shirt. He knew the look had come back in style and it was rather cute on her but he wasn't about to tell her that. 

Becca just rolled her eyes. “Very mature James.” Bucky snorted. She sat for a moment, fiddling with the edge of her dress and staring out the window. “You know, mom doesn't care that you grew your hair out.”

Bucky turned sharply, clearly surprised. He couldn’t figure out where she was going with this. “Why would mom care about my hair?”

Becca shrugged. “I don't know.” She paused and the music filling the air between them felt out of place. “I'm just saying. You don't have to hide all the time.”

“I'm not hiding, Becca.”

“I know,” she said quickly. “She also wouldn't care about…” she paused for a moment, considering her words carefully. “...other things.”

Bucky sighed. He could feel the anxiety begin to gnaw at his insides. “I'm not having this conversation.” He knew what she was hinting at, of course he did. He had accidentally come out to her a few months earlier. Yes, _ accidentally _. Only Bucky could spill his deepest, darkest secret without even realizing it.

She was pestering him during one of their weekly FaceTime calls after Maria let it slip he had gone on a date the night before. As he was recounting the night in as few details as possible he said ‘he’ instead of ‘she’ and Becca’s eyes went wide. Bucky froze and his blood went cold. But Becca, endlessly kind and thoughtful Becca, had recovered quickly and immediately started asking him what the guy was studying and if he was cute. Bucky’s chest had been flooded with a strange feeling of relief and appreciation and still a little nervousness all mixed together. He couldn't even finish the story. He just let her yell at him for more details, laughing at her increasing frustration, as brothers do. Since that night, they hadn't spoken much about it, at least not in specific terms.

“I just don't think it would hurt. Telling mom.” Becca shrugged. While her initial reaction had reassured him, her not so subtle hints that he should share this particular aspect of his life had only made his anxiety worse.

“There’s a lot it would hurt. Starting with her.” Bucky said matter-of-factly.

“You don’t know that.”

“It doesn’t matter Becca. She doesn’t need to know so why bother? When have we ever talked about stuff like that anyways?”

Becca huffed and stared out the window silently.

“It's just not something I wanna tell _ anyone _ okay?” Bucky said, quiet now. “It's... not something that people around here are okay with.” He said he said the words slowly and with effort.

“How would you know?” she asked, somewhat petulantly.

He didn’t say anything. He didn't tell her how intimately he knew how not-okay people around here were with people like him. He didn’t tell her the things they could say, the way their words could rip right through you like a knife.

At her worst Becca snarky and sarcastic but she was never cruel. He knew that she was just worried about him and wanted their family to be like everyone else's. A family who talked about their problems and didn't pretend like everything was fine. But that's not who they were.

After an extended silence, Bucky turned to his sister while they were stopped at a light. He fought against his fear and discomfort and looked her in the eye. He tried to make his voice as soothing as possible. “I'm fine, okay?”

She didn't look convinced but she nodded anyway. “I'm not ashamed of you, you know?” She added quietly, like the words left her mouth against her better judgment.

Bucky turned to look out his window. He clenched his jaw tightly to stop the stinging tears from forming in his eyes. “I know Becs,” he whispered quietly. He didn't say anything else–he couldn't even if he wanted to. Thankfully, neither did she.

When they finally arrived at the coffee shop after a tensely quiet ride, Becca grabbed her backpack and turned to leave. Bucky took a breath and tried to shake the numbness that had taken hold of his chest. He caught her arm as she was stepping out and leaned over the center console. “Hey get me an iced latte and bring it out before I leave,” he said with the sweetest smile he could muster.

A relieved smile crossed Becca’s face but she quickly frowned. “You know I can't give you free drinks.”

Bucky’s smile didn't fade, “Yeah but you do anyways. Because I'm your favorite brother.”

Becca rolled her eyes, “You're gonna get me fired Bucky.”

“And what a stain that would be on your glowing resume,” he said sarcastically, referring to her otherwise empty CV. She glared at him over her shoulder as she walked inside and judging by the strength of the look, Bucky almost drove off. But a few minutes later she walked out with an iced latte with ‘Pain In My Ass’ written on the side. He gave her a megawatt smile as she passed the drink through the window and tried to hide her matching grin. Bucky drove away, feeling lighter. The numbness had loosened, and the pit in his stomach that had twisted and clawed at his insides was shrinking, but still present. He sighed. It was just the summer. Just the summer.

________

When Bucky finally arrived to the pool, it was overflowing with people. The blisteringly hot sun and sauna-like humidity hadn’t stopped anyone. If anything it had doubled their numbers. The air sat thick and heavy, without even a hint of a breeze to offer relief. Bucky glared at the cloudless sky, willing the sun to go away, to give him mercy, if only for the duration of his shift. He walked into the building, dodged a couple of kids who ran directly in front of him, winced at the loud voice of a camp counselor attempting to wrangle their group, and felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out and saw that it was the lifeguard group chat.

**Sam Wilson: **10 bucks says we get rained out

Bucky rolled his eyes and laughed. Sam was always starting bets when they were kids. Over the weather, races in the pool, what the school was going to serve for lunch. Anything and everything. Sam was shockingly successful and it was pretty entertaining to listen to him brag for weeks afterwards.

**Steve Rogers: **dude there's not a cloud in sight. why are you wasting your money like this

**Sam Wilson: **does that mean you're in?

**Clint Barton: **I'll take it for 20

**Sam Wilson: **done.

**Natasha Romanoff: **you're both idiots

Bucky shook his head and laughed while he threw his stuff into his locker. While it looked like there was a better chance of hell freezing over than it raining, he knew better than to bet against Sam Wilson and he imagined Natasha had learned the same thing over the past two summers.

A few hours later he sat slouched in his lifeguard chair fiddling with his whistle and drowning in the heat. Can you drown from heat? Bucky wasn't sure but if you could, he definitely was. He wasn't sure if it was the humidity in the air or the way the heat crept around him like a smothering blanket, but he wouldn't wish this on his worst enemy. Every small splash of water brought some temporary relief and he shifted in his chair to follow the shade his minuscule umbrella offered. He encouraged the maniac kids in front of him to do a few more cannonballs in hopes he would get splashed some more. He watched the little boy in below him–Isaac, he had learned–try to dive for quarters and he felt a strange pang in his chest. He wound the string of his whistle around his fingers methodically and glanced up in time to see Steve join him on the other side of the lap pool.

Steve climbed into the chair and sat back with his legs stretched out and his whistle dangling from his pink lips. His skin had taken on a light tan and his freckles were starting to show. They dotted the apples of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, crooked from too many breaks after too many dumb fights. His freckles clustered together on his shoulders and ran down his chest, into the dark hair that dusted his huge pecs and trailed down his stomach. Bucky frustratingly noted that Steve still had a full six pack. It was absurd how big he had gotten. He had no right being this attractive and somehow growing even stronger in the years they had been apart. And didn’t this guy own a shirt? Bucky swore he had never seen a bare chest more than Steve’s in the past few weeks. Bucky spent the next 20 minutes or so stewing about how good Steve looked. He had become really good at that recently.

Suddenly, the beefcake-known-as-Steve glanced up and looked behind Bucky with a smirk. Bucky self-consciously looked away, praying he hadn't gotten caught ogling, but when he glanced up again Steve was still staring over his head. He looked up to find a line of dark clouds headed their way. His phone buzzed and he took it out of his pocket as discreetly as he could.

**Sam Wilson: **hell yeah

Bucky shot out a laugh and looked up to see Steve chuckling at his phone. He paused for a moment, unable to _ not _admire that adorable smile, but when Steve looked up at him–face as eager and sweet as ever, inviting Bucky with his eyes to laugh along–Bucky looked down. He didn't know how to have that with Steve anymore–comfortable laughter, the ease of a shared joke. He wasn't sure if he could.

**Clint Barton: **it'll pass

Sam just sent a smiling devil emoji.

Less than 30 minutes later the clouds had encircled them entirely, because of course they had. Bucky heard the distant boom of thunder overhead and he watched Steve smirk.

**Maria Hill: **that's lightening. I'm calling it

Bucky swore he could feel the collective elation and relief felt amongst the lifeguards. A day off was a day off–it was sweet no matter where you worked. They stood and collectively blew their whistles with matching grins on each of their faces. As the kids and parents slowly trickled out, they made their way to the breakroom. Steve fell into step beside Bucky and Bucky tried to focus on the heat coming off of the rough concrete below him instead of the heat coming from the body next to him. His gut twisted.

Steve chuckled quietly, shaking his head, “Sam never loses.”

Bucky wanted to laugh. He wanted to fall into step with Steve, laugh about their best friend. But every time he looked at Steve he was reminded of their last conversation. He fidgeted with his hands helplessly. “Mhmm,” he hummed dryly. He just couldn’t shake it. For his part, Steve didn’t look shaken, just resigned and a little disappointed. Bucky could deal with that. As long as they didn't get too close.

Bucky sat in the back of the breakroom, playing mindlessly on his phone while he waited for the go-ahead to leave. With all the subtlety he could muster, he watched Steve at the front of the room, talking quietly to Maria. The sheen of sweat on his bare chest had dried and he ran his hand absentmindedly through his wavy hair, longer than it had ever been. Bucky saw movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced over to see Sam sit down next to him. He raised his eyebrows and gave Bucky a pointed look. Bucky frowned and looked away. He noticed only he, Sam, Natasha, and Clint remained, along with Steve and Maria up front. The rain had started to pick up outside, falling steadily against the roof.

“Okay so here’s the deal,” Maria said loudly from the front of the room, clapping her hands together. “It’s definitely a thunderstorm but it looks pretty small on the radar and might pass over.” Everyone’s face dropped.

“So,” Steve said slowly, “we have to stay and wait it out.” There were a couple groans in response.

Bucky ignored Steve and looked directly at Maria when he said, “So we have to stay here all day doing nothing?” Maria grinned.

________

The next thing Bucky knew he was squeezed into the middle of the couch in the breakroom, with Sam and Maria on either side of him. Natasha was perched in Maria’s lap and Steve and Clint were in chairs facing the couch. They all held classic Gameboys in their hands, staring intently at the screens and frantically jabbing the buttons. Maria, forever full of good ideas, had raided the Lost and Found for old games and started a tournament between the six of them, while they waited for the storm to pass. Bucky was currently dominating Galaga, while Clint showed how embarrassingly bad he was at Frogger. Sam was still going on what might be the longest game of Tetris ever played, while Steve yelled curses at Mario for not dodging the _ stupid freaking mushrooms like I told you to. _Maria kept score diligently and after a few minutes they passed the games around.

“Barnes what is this pathetic score?” Sam asked arrogantly as Bucky passed over his game of Galaga after the timer sounded.

Bucky scoffed, “That's the highest Galaga score of the day that's what that is.” He took note of Natasha’s decent Donkey Kong score and got to work.

“Clint, honey, you've gotta just stop” Maria said to Clint, trying to hold in her laughter. She was waiting for him to pass Frogger over. He frowned at the small screen, expression quickly moving from frustration to desperation as everyone stared at him.

“I just want him to make it across _ one time _!” He cried pitifully.

“All you have to do is press the arrows! How have you not made it across even once?” Natasha asked incredulously.

“It’s–I–they just keep getting faster! And they’re all going at different speeds,” Clint mumbled miserably. “Whatever at least I don’t suck at Super Mario Brothers like Steve does.”

“Woah! Uncalled for!” Steve reeled without looking up from his game. “I’m not that bad!”

“Steve you’re good at so many things but video games is not one of them,” Sam said mournfully.

“That’s not true. I suck at fancy new games. I used to be really good at these. I’m just out of practice,” he shrugged.

Bucky let out a sharp laugh at that. “That’s a lie and you know it Rogers. I always had to beg you to play these, and I crushed you every time.” He grinned, carefree, at his screen while he recalled the memory. Trying to get Steve to do something he didn’t want to do was a monumental task, no matter the request, and dealing with Steve after he lost was even worse. He was suddenly brought back to late nights spent on Steve’s living room floor, begging Steve for _ just one more game, _ begging Sarah not to make him go home yet _ . _ Steve’s grumpy, scrunched up face when he lost–which was often. Stomach aching from laughing so hard. He realized he was remembering it fondly. He hadn’t done that in a while.

Suddenly, Bucky also realized that everything had gone quiet. He glanced up from his game and saw five sets of eyes all trained on him. Steve had the most dumbfounded look on his face, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Sam raised his eyebrows knowingly, Natasha and Maria shared small grins, and Clint looked at everyone cluelessly. Bucky realized that it was the first time he had willingly spoken to Steve–he even joked around with him. And he realized with a start that he didn’t instantly regret it. It didn’t feel terrible–it felt comfortable. It felt like a _ relief. _ He knew right away that he had missed this– _ tremendously. _ He glanced around self-consciously, “What?”

There was an awkward beat of silence before Steve filled it with nervous rambling. “Nothing! Yeah you’re right. I always sucked at these.” He smiled hesitantly at Bucky and Bucky gave him a small grin in return.

They continued on with the makeshift tournament until Clint and Steve dropped out and Natasha got bored. Sam, Bucky, and Maria battled it out through the rest of the games, eventually crowning Sam the ultimate champion. Bucky reluctantly–_ really _reluctantly–conceded his title of Best at Stupid Games to Sam but swore he would take it back at the next rematch. He also made sure everyone knew he still had the highest Galaga score for the day.

The thunderstorms eventually passed without any of them realizing it and when they did, it was close enough to closing time to forgo opening the pool again. They all left work a little early, light and carefree, laughing easily. High on the indescribable joy of time spent with friends.

Bucky was aware that he hadn’t felt this in a long time and he was aware of how much he liked it. He missed the casualness, the mutual understanding between a group of friends. And though they weren’t quite there yet–the awkwardness hadn’t left entirely–he could feel something building. He wasn’t going to let himself get too caught up in something that was just going to end in a few months but he could at least enjoy it while it lasted.

As he was walking to his car to leave, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket once more and pulled it out to see a private message from Steve.

**Steve Rogers: **I see you haven’t lost your touch

**Steve Rogers: **thanks for not holding back on me

Bucky couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face. As scared as he was of any closeness with Steve, the awkwardness and discomfort had been grating on him. He glanced at the sunset above him, stretched out over the trees. Blues and purples slowly fading into vibrant pinks and oranges. He smiled.

**Bucky Barnes: **always happy to kick your ass Rogers


	5. Chapter 5

** _July 15_ ** ** _th_ ** ** _, 2011_ **

“Oh, hell no. I am not smoking that.”

“Why not? It’s totally legit.”

Sam gave Clint a look as if to say _ do you really need to ask? _Apparently he did.

“Dude, just because your creepy older brother said it’s legit, doesn’t mean it is.”

Bucky just shook his head, laughing at the two idiots in front of him. He felt a tap on his shoulder and glanced at Steve, lounging comfortably next to him. He had his hand out, passing a cigarette to Bucky. Bucky grabbed it and took a puff, careful not to breathe too deeply. Sam and Steve both knew that Bucky had only smoked a cigarette one other time in his life but if he broke into a coughing fit like last time he would never live it down.

He leaned back on his elbows next to Steve and felt the tall grass brush his shoulders. He tried to let the cigarette dangle coolly from his fingers but he was sure he failed. They were sat on a secluded hill at the edge of town.

Steve and Bucky had spent the morning playing the new version of FIFA at Sam’s house. Growing tired of the game by noon, they decided to leave the house in search of something illicit and exciting. It was summer, the boys were sixteen, and they were desperate for something to do.

They had met up with Clint, Sam’s friend from the soccer team. Clint was tall and lean with shaggy blonde hair. He was a little nuts, but overall a fun guy. Clint had taken them to a new suburb development on the edge of town.

They had ridden their bikes down the brand new streets, the smell of asphalt and fresh lumber filling their lungs as they peered inside the partially constructed homes. The houses were wrapped in green, piles of dirt and abandoned equipment littering their yards. The place gave some semblance of a neighborhood but was eerily quiet. The sidewalks soon came to an end, but the street kept going and the boys rode on. Large fields with overgrown grass led to the edge of the woods and the boys threw their bikes to the ground at the bottom of a small hill as Clint unveiled a pack of Marlboro lights.

He was now holding what looked to be a small, shriveled up cigarette in green paper. Bucky wasn’t positive what a joint should look like but he didn’t think that was it.

“Man, whatever, you guys are lame” Clint said, failing to come up with a defense for his creepy older brother. After several tries, he lit the end of the joint, trying to look as cool and unconcerned as possible in the late afternoon sun.

Bucky snickered under his breath and laid fully in the grass, staring at Steve sitting next to him, his sun-bleached blond hair a stark contrast to the cool blue of the sky. He watched his shoulders rise and his lips purse as he took a slow drag of the cigarette. Bucky wished his jaw line was as sharp as Steve’s.

Eventually, they each tried the shriveled up cigarette, their faces scrunching up as it filled their mouths with a foul taste and left a lingering scent of skunk. They each tried to pretend they were feeling something, but Bucky knew he felt completely normal.

“Oh my god you guys.”

“What is it, Sam?” Steve asked.

“Sharon is calling me,” Sam said, panic dripping from his voice. He was staring at his phone, face scrunched in worry, apparently having forgotten how to operate it.

Bucky laughed easily, “Answer it you moron.”

Sam took a deep breath and answered the phone. “Hey Sharon,” he drawled, trying to come off as smooth and failing miserably. “Huh? Oh we’re over by Firebrook. Yeah the new place… Oh just chilling, you know.”

Bucky looked at Steve, and that was all it took. They broke out into silent fits of laughter, trying to contain themselves enough to hear the rest of the conversation.

Clint chuckled easily where he stood next to Sam. Sam was shooting daggers at all of them. Sharon must’ve said something urgent as Sam’s face snapped to attention. “What? Oh yeah I would love to see you. Where, here?”

The boys’ laughter stopped instantly and they all began to wave their hands wildly, mouthing the word ‘no’ over and over again.

“Yeah you guys should meet us here!”

They all groaned in response, Steve’s shoulders slumping as Bucky fell back onto the grass in defeat.

Sam quickly ended the phone all and looked up at them innocently. “What?”

“Dude!” Clint shouted, gesturing wildly at nothing, “They’re gonna smell the smoke!”

“Yeah and we don’t want to hang out with your girlfriend dude,” Steve said.

“You can’t even smell that anymore!” Sam implored. “Plus, Steve, she’s bringing Peggy.” He said this with a suggestive grin.

“So?” Steve asked.

“So…” Sam said, eyebrows raising, “She’s totally into you!”

Bucky felt something move in his chest. It wasn’t a particularly good feeling.

Steve gave a weak laugh, “No she’s not. We’re just friends.”

Bucky laid back on the grass trying to calm the churning feeling in his stomach.

“I don’t know, man I’ve seen the way she looks at you. I know what that look means,” Sam said with confidence.

Steve laid down next to Bucky, turning his body to lie with his head on Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky relaxed into their familiar position.

“Sam, you wouldn’t understand a woman’s ‘look’ if it slapped you in the face,” Steve responded.

“I’m sorry, which one of us has a girlfriend?”

“You have a what?”

Four heads snapped to the direction of the teasing voice behind them, getting steadily closer. Sharon and Peggy hopped off their bikes gracefully, laughing to each other as they walked closer. Sharon had short blonde hair and an easy smile, void of any malice as she teased Sam easily. When Sam just stared at her, she asked, “Which one of you has a girlfriend?”

“Oh, um, H- Hey, Sharon” Sam mumbled. He fidgeted nervously, running his hand over his head. He rubbed his dark curls, buzzed short for the summer, his eyes looking at everything but Sharon’s face.

Bucky laughed quietly to himself as he listened to the two attempt to flirt. Eventually they came over to sit down in the grass across from Steve and Bucky. Peggy sat next to Steve and the two chatted easily about the classes they shared the previous year, laughing about mutual friends and ridiculous teachers. Bucky had never been interested in Peggy Carter before, but the only word to describe the feeling in his chest was jealousy.

The group stayed there for a while, talking about their respective summers, their dread of entering their junior year of high school, their strict parents. Bucky remained quiet, mulling over the possibility of a crush on Peggy. He tried to push it from his mind, as she was clearly interested in Steve, but that thought is what made his stomach twist. He had never been jealous of Steve before. He knew what Steve looked like. He knew girls thought he was cute. Ever since he hit a growth spurt freshman year he started to bulk up. He was one of the fastest swimmers on the team now and had no trouble making friends or talking to girls. Or rather, girls had no trouble talking to him. Bucky, on the other hand, remained his dorky self, only ever talking to Sam or Steve.

“God, it's hot” Sam complained, wiping the sweat from his forehead, his dark skin shining with moisture. Bucky could feel the suffocating heat hanging in the air.

“The river runs right through the woods back there,” Clint mentioned, pointing behind his back.

“Hell yeah, let's go for a swim” Sam exclaimed. “Sharon, you in?”

She paused and looked at Peggy, a wordless conversation happening between their eyes. She shrugged her shoulders. “Sure, I'm down.”

They all jumped to their feet and headed towards the woods, deciding to leave their bikes where the asphalt ended.

As they meandered through the clearing toward the tree line, Steve threw his arm over Bucky’s shoulders. The pair walked easily, comfortable in each other's presence. Steve was a very tactile person. He loved physical touch, whether it be a handshake, a hug, or an arm around his best friend. Bucky was a much less touchy-feely person but he had gotten so used to Steve that he didn't even notice anymore.

Steve leaned in close and said with a sly grin, “Wanna race me once we get there?”

Bucky laughed and elbowed him in the ribs. “Hell no. You think I didn't learn my lesson last time?”

Steve’s grin widened, showing all of his teeth. “Aw, come on, Buck. You know you're the fastest guy in the team! Hell, you taught me how to swim!”

“Yeah I used to be until you learned what a gym was and started getting all these freakishly huge muscles.” He reached over and squeezed Steve’s bicep, a disgusted look on his face.

Steve could see the good natured teasing under Bucky’s facade. He grabbed the smaller boy’s bicep, squeezing it lightly. “Don't worry Bucky, I’ll teach you what a dumbbell is, we'll get there.”

Bucky felt Steve chuckle against him. Bucky just laughed and rolled his eyes. Up ahead, Sam and Sharon were walking in front of them, huddled close together. Sam had his arm draped over Sharon’s shoulders and leaned in to whisper something in her ear. Bucky looked at them quizzically. He looked at Steve next to him. He looked back at them. His stomach dropped.

Their posture was identical. Why would it be identical to Sam and Sharon? Why were they walking this way? They weren't dating. Of course they weren't but–did Steve want to? Did Steve think of him that way? Why else would he do this? _ No, _ Bucky thought to himself, _ Steve is always like this. You're being ridiculous. _ But was he? Sure, Steve was tactile, but he didn't throw his arm around Sam’s shoulder while they walked. If he would have leaned in to whisper something in Sam’s ear he would've gotten slapped. _ But we’re best friends. That's just what we do. _That's not what other best friends do. That's what boyfriends and girlfriends do.

Bucky thought about what people must think when they stand close like this. The thought made him anxious. He thought about telling Steve to stop but _ that _ thought burned like fire in the pit of his stomach. He didn't want to do that. So was he the one causing this? Did he feel _ that way _about Steve?

His internal crisis was interrupted by Steve’s voice, unsurprisingly very close to his face. “You should challenge Clint. He’ll never see it coming,” Steve snickered.

Bucky blinked a few times, trying to process the topic change. He eventually let out a breath, perhaps a bit forcefully. “He knows I'm on the swim team, though.”

Steve shrugged, “yeah but he doesn't know you're the _ best.” _

Bucky managed a half smile. “Still not true.” His shirt was starting to feel uncomfortably tight in the heat.

Mercifully, at that moment they made it to the river. It was more of a creek, really, spanning only 20 or so feet across, chest deep, with a weak current. The area was secluded, surrounded by huge trees that shaded the water in a natural arch. The afternoon sun filtered through the bright green leaves, creating disjointed shapes on the flowing water. One tree leaned precariously over the water, with a rope swing attached to its broad trunk–a relic of past summers spent by the water.

Clint ripped off his shirt and immediately jumped off a large rock on the edge of the riverbank, doing a perfect cannonball into the water.

Bucky sat down on the rocks to take off his shoes as the others started to undress. His head was swimming with endless possibilities. The only thing to cut through the haze was a soft, familiar laugh. More of a giggle, really. Bucky glanced to his right. Steve was laughing at Sam, as he eased into the chilly water slowly, his face scrunching up in discomfort at each inch of rising water. Steve's broad shoulders shook with his laughter. _ Ok, _ Bucky thought, _ that has to be the cutest giggle I've ever heard. _

_ Cute? _ Bucky’s never referred to Steve as _ cute. _He was clearly way too caught up in this insane possibility of having a crush on Steve. He needed to relax.

He was going to relax, really he was. He had already started by taking a deep breath and focusing on removing his shoes. But, at that moment, he made the mistake of glancing up again. Steve was taking off his shirt and Bucky swore it happened in slow motion. The thin fabric stretched over Steve's ridiculously huge shoulders. His torso stretched as his arms rose. Bucky could've sworn this wasn't the first time he saw Steve’s chest but it sure felt like it. The wide expense of tan, freckled skin covering taught muscles. Small spots of dark hair formed in the center.

_ Oh god, _ Bucky thought, _ Steve is attractive. Like really attractive. _

What did this mean? Did he have feelings for Steve? _ Ok Bucky, _ he thought, _ look at the facts. _Apparently Steve was hot. That much was clear. He wanted Steve to be closer to him, pretty much all the time. He hated the thought of Steve liking Peggy. He loved pretty much everything about Steve.

_ You know what? These are terrible facts, _he thought. He decided to push them from his mind. He knew if he was mulling it over this intensely, it would be written all over his face.

“You coming, Buck?” Sam called from the water.

“Yeah,” Bucky said weakly. He was the last one in the water. He finished undressing and waded easily into the cool water. He quickly dove under, pushing through the water as hard as he could in an attempt to physically push the thoughts from his mind.

The group swam easily while they talked more about school. Sam teased Steve about talking to Peggy. Steve teased him right back about his rock obsession. Luckily for Sam, Sharon thought it was cool.

They played some games, swung from the rope swing, and floated easily in the water. Bucky stayed quiet the entire time. He couldn't stop himself from thinking about this realization. He knew it was pointless to try.

The thing he was stuck on now was that _ he didn't like guys. _How could he have a crush on Steve if he wasn't attracted to guys? He figured the only reason he was feeling this way was because someone, anyone, decided to show interest in him, show affection towards him. He was just so desperate he would take anything.

He was self-aware enough to know that that was bullshit. He couldn't make this up just because he was desperate. 

_ Ok fine _ , he thought, _ Steve is attractive. But that's it. _

But was it? He'd never had a crush on a girl. He assumed that was because he never spoke to any of them, or because they weren't interested, or he was waiting for the right one. That seemed much less likely now.

Did this mean he was only friends with Steve because he was interested in him? No, he knew that wasn't true. He might have some complicated feelings for Steve, but Steve was his best friend and he always had been. That part was uncomplicated.

Steve brought him back to the present by splashing some water in his face. “Hello? Earth to Buckaroo..”

Bucky blinked and instantly gave Steve a stern face. “I told you never to call me that.”

“Aw, come on, but you're my favorite Buckaroo!” Steve exclaimed with the most ridiculous smile on his face. His cheeks were round and his blue eyes danced. Something in Bucky’s chest physically _ fluttered. _“Let's go swing from the rope!”

As Bucky followed him out of the water, he was hit by the most terrifying thought yet. _ Did Steve feel the same way? _

There had to be a reason Steve hung all over him the way he did. He wasn't like that with Sam or Clint. He also never really talked about other girls. Maybe he was hiding something too. He watched Steve’s muscular back as he clung to the rope and fell easily into the water.

As he stepped up and grabbed the rope he noticed Steve swim to the edge of the group. He floated behind Peggy, his arms resting on her shoulders easily, comfortably, as he waited for Bucky to jump. Bucky’s stomach dropped and not from the fall into the water.

Of course Steve didn't feel the same way–_ why would he? _ Bucky was his best friend. Steve cared about him but he'd never given him any reason to believe it was _ that _ kind of care. He threw his arms over _ everyone’s _shoulders. Why did Bucky have to go and make it weird? Steve was popular, funny, and–Bucky was starting to realize–ridiculously attractive.

He realized he had to keep his feelings to himself. The mortification of Steve rejecting him would be nothing compared to the loss of their friendship. Steve wouldn't be able to look at him. Sam would be weirded out. Bucky would have no one.

As they rode their bikes home that day, Bucky couldn't stop looking at Steve. It was like he was seeing him for the first time. He was committing it all to memory. The way Steve laughed easily, no matter who he was talking to. The way the pink of his lips matched the blush of his cheeks, flushed bright from the heat. The way he grinned at Bucky, sweet as anything, like they had some kind of secret between just the two of them.

He memorized the way Steve looked and the way it made Bucky feel, because this would be the last time. He couldn't let his feelings get any bigger; they would only become more legitimate and he would eventually slip up. And he couldn't lose Steve. Bucky wasn't sure of much but he was sure of that.

**_________**

_ **June 18th, 2018** _

**The De-Icing of Bucky Barnes**

**Step One:** Let him beat you at Galaga

Well, tell yourself that you let him beat you at Galaga. You haven't played in a while, you're a little rusty–it's fine. Let him win by a lot. Stick around for his victory celebration. The smug look of success and the small grin he wears for the rest of the day will be well worth any feelings of disappointment. Don't say too much or he’ll figure you out–he's always been able to see right through you. Sit back and watch as he brags to Sam and arrogantly tells Clint he’ll give him lessons before the next tournament. Laugh at the way Maria quickly puts him in his place, reminding him of the time she destroyed him at Scrabble. Watch his face fall and then scrunch up adorably as he tells Maria she cheated. Look reasonably impressed as he tells you about the best game of Scrabble he ever played when he was 13–as if you haven't heard this a thousand times. _ 50 bonus points on one turn, did you hear that Steve? Yeah Buck I heard. _Wipe that look of affection off your face. Revel in the fact that he's speaking more than 3 words to you. Try not to focus too much on the way his cheeks flush when he gets excited, or the dimple in his chin, or the fact that you haven't seen his smile in three years but it's still as bright, as captivating, as heartbreaking as ever.

Let him leave. Don't give in to your urge to follow after him and tell him how much you've missed him and that dumb smile of his. Play it cool. Send him a text–teasing, lighthearted, but with something underneath, almost indiscernible. Wait desperately for his response and try not to lose it over the fact that he did, in fact, respond.

******

**Step Two:** Start an actual conversation

Nothing huge, nothing intense or overly personal. Keep it casual. Let him know that things between you don’t have to be the way they were–they can be new and different and still good. Start with something easy. Agonize way too long over what to write.

**Steve Rogers: **do you work on saturday?

**Bucky Barnes:** yeah. why?

**SR:** trying to get a shift covered

**BB:** why don’t you message the group?

**SR:** I’ve just been asking around

Try not to obsessively check your phone after every message, especially after a break in the conversation, especially when he can clearly see you sitting across the pool. Definitely don’t glance over at him, wondering if he got the notification, waiting for him to dig his phone out of his pocket. Stop bouncing your knee.

**BB: **why do you need off?

Ignore the little thrill that goes off inside your chest.

**SR: **my mom wants to go to a new museum that just opened up in Elmdale

**SR: **she told me to say hello by the way. she said she misses you

Ignore the sting in your chest at the thought of your mom, and how close she used to be with him. Don’t think about all the questions over the years about why she never sees him anymore, what happened between the two of you, _ why aren’t you speaking anymore? _Don’t think about the interrogation last week when you couldn’t answer a single one of her questions about him. Because you don’t know anything about him.

**BB: **oh. tell her I said hi and that I’ve missed her too.

**BB: **a lot

Definitely don’t think about that last part and if that means he’s missed you too and if that means he’s been thinking about you. Don't tell him that you've been thinking about him too.

******

**Step Three: **Remind him why you used to be best friends

Try to talk whenever you can. Text during the day–and maybe sometimes at night–and talk to him at the pool. Don’t be a stalker but if you happen to run into him in the breakroom every day, you run into him in the breakroom. It’s a shared space alright?

Ask him about things that make his face light up. That make his blue eyes brighten and his bright teeth show. Ask about movies and music and engineering–if you can even come up with a question about engineering. Remind him of all your stupid little jokes. The way you used to banter back and forth. Talk about the hilarious kids and the ridiculous parents that come to the pool every day.

**SR: **mrs. pierce is complaining that you let a little kid swim in the deep end after you told her precious jeremy that he couldn't 

**BB: **yeah I remember that because jeremy didn't stop screaming about it for the rest of the day. tell her I let alexis go in the deep end because she's a much more competent swimmer

**SR: **but she's younger and smaller, mrs. pierce says

**BB: **yeah it doesn't matter. she's much more confident in the water and she can handle herself. she's a natural. jeremy has a long way to go

**SR: **well I'm sorry bucky you've been far too reasonable and logical here. mrs. pierce has requested we let you go and we have no other choice but to give in to her demands

**BB: **damn. I thought I was really getting the hang of this

**SR: **well we can't all be as gifted as her

**BB: **too bad you won't get to see my face everyday

**SR: **you know I think we might be willing to reconsider our position

Don't stare too hard at the slight blush that covers his cheeks. It’s probably from the sun anyways. The heat makes his skin flush. Stop and think about how good he actually is at this job. The way he learns every kid’s name, their friends and parents, their skill level and what they do for fun. The way he’s the picture of poised relaxation slouched in his chair, but pays rapt attention to everyone around him and doesn't miss a thing. How stern he gets with the kids who are putting themselves in danger, genuine care and attention clear on his face. The way he laughs just as hard as all the other kids after Mateo’s hilariously awful belly-flop.

**SR: **kyle is back

**BB: **that little shit

Remind him of the annoying, troublesome kid that plagues their shifts day in and day out and gets him adorably frustrated. The kid who breaks every rule and calls the other kids dumb. The kid who always shows up without a parent and is the last to leave. When you mention this kid, don't laugh too hard at the angry look on his face–he doesn't want to hear how cute he looks when he's mad. Watch him stick up for the other kids, telling Kyle to stick it where the sun don't shine, and laugh at the kids’ confused expressions. Listen to him console a 7-year-old girl, too scared to swim in the big pool. Listen to the way he comforts her and then encourages her, telling her she is brave and capable and he's right here to help. Memorize the joy on his face after she jumps in for the first time, his arms raised in celebration.

**Revised Step Three: **Let him remind you why you used to love him

******

**Step Four: **Make him feel included

Bring him into the group. Treat him as if he's always been there, because, be honest with yourself: it feels like he has. And all those times it felt like something was missing, you knew it was this. Tell him all the inside jokes and funny stories you remember.

**Sam Wilson: **be careful out there today guys

**Maria Hill: **if we stick together we’ll be fine

**Steve Rogers: **eyes up. stay sharp

**Bucky Barnes: **what in the hell

**Steve Rogers: **every single year for the past three years, a kid has pooped in the pool on june 16th.

**Samantha Wilson: **it’s inevitable

**Natasha Romanoff: **it’s a cursed day

**Bucky Barnes: **you guys are insane

**Maria Hill: **don’t laugh bucky. you’re tempting fate

**Samantha Wilson: **respect the day barnes

Laugh with him about your weird traditions, leaning up against the brick behind the main building. Don’t lean too close and don’t lose your train of thought in the way he smells–like sunscreen and chlorine with something sweet underneath. Memorize his confused looks, the sound of his giggle, the way he’s skeptical but immediately goes along with the Annual Dunking of Sam Wilson. Teach him how to combine a coke slushie with a scoop of ice cream to create an absolutely unparalleled delicacy. When the cursed day June 16th goes exactly as expected, laugh with everyone else as they blame it on him and make him scoop the offending object out of the pool. Take a picture of the disgruntled look on his face while he tries to hold in his laughter–you won’t want to forget this.

******

**Step Five: **No matter what: don’t flirt with him

**BB: **don’t laugh

**SR: **I don’t know what’s about to happen but I’m already sure this is an unreasonable request

**BB: **I forgot to put my clothes in the dryer last night so now they’re all wet and mildewed

**SR: **that sucks?

**BB: **my trunks were in there. so I had to wear my speedo

**SR: **oh my god

**BB: **Steven

**SR:** bucky barnes in a speedo. never thought I’d see the day

**BB:** shut up. it’s my backup. I usually just use it to practice

**SR:** there’s one every year. a lifeguard confident enough to actually show up in a speedo

**BB:** yes and I’m sure it’s usually you

**SR: **only if you’re lucky sweet cheeks

A perfect example of what not to do. He doesn’t want you to flirt with him because he doesn’t want you–no matter how much you’re starting to want him. You’re going to make things weird and uncomfortable. So when he shows up that morning in a speedo, for the love of god, don’t stare. Focus on his eyes when he comes over to laugh self consciously about the situation, not his unreasonably thick. tanned thighs or the outline of something you’ve only daydreamed about. Tease him about all the extra attention he’s getting from the women at the pool this morning. Tell him–in the most teasing way you can manage–that he should wear it more often. Ignore the way he laughs nervously and rubs the back of his neck and tells you to fuck off.

When you run into each other during breaks, listen intently to the things he says. Don’t tell him how cute he looks with his hair pulled back in a messy bun. Laugh at the way he teases Sam or the embarrassing stories he tells you about Maria and Natasha. Make sure and tell Maria you’d love to see her rendition of ‘One Day More’ in which she plays the part of every character, and the accompanying choreography Natasha made up one night when the three of them were drunk. Memorize the way his giggles turn into full on belly laughs at the enraged look in her eyes. Don’t tell them he’s already shown you his recording of the whole thing.

Don’t think about the fact that he’s the last person you talk to at night and the first person you hear from in the morning. Or the way the iciness has left his voice when he talks to you–when he seeks you out to tell you about his day. Or the fact that you’ve never felt more comfortable–more like yourself–than you do when you talk to him.

Follow these steps and you just might find the best friend you once had and the love that you never lost.

_______

Steve brought his hand up to cover his mouth as he laughed at his mom sitting in the booth across from him. “Mom,” he choked out between laughs, “you have to stop.”

“What?” Sarah said, deliberately clueless. “This is the way to get exposure, sweetie. I read about it on the internet.”

“Yeah getting an Instagram for your art is fine,” he said placatingly. “But this is not the way to do it. You do not need to post 30 times a day.” His mom had been an incredible, eccentric artist all his life and used to drag him to galleries and art fairs around the state to show her work. But she had recently started to share her art online. To say he was both relieved and amused was an understatement.

“They want to see the process, Steven.”

“They do not want to see a picture of every single material you use and which tea you drink every day and a selfie after every progress shot!”

“Tell that to my 45 followers, Steven. I’m growing every day,” she said with a smug grin on her face. She looked at him pointedly, over the large framed glasses perched on the end of her nose. Her long blonde hair fell over her shoulders along with the worn wool cardigan he remembered from when he was young. She was an organized mess, as usual, and Steve loved her fiercely.

“I think you’re doing great, mom” he said fondly. “I just think we could adjust your social media strategy to get even better numbers.”

“Well,” she said and then paused, tapping away at her phone. Her expression grew increasingly frustrated until she sat it down and said in a huff, “I was going to show you my followers but I can’t figure that thing out.” Steve just laughed and shook his head. They were having dinner at a small sandwich shop that was too overpriced for its own good but had decent food. He tried to see his mom as often as possible while he was home for the summer. He loved spending time with her but he would definitely hear about it when he left if he didn’t see her enough.

“Did you hear me? Steven.”

Steve quickly glanced up from his phone, brows risen in question. “Huh?”

“I said how are things going at the pool?” she repeated slowly.

“Oh yeah they’re good. Same as always.” He finished typing out his text and hit send.

“Mhmm. Who are you talking to anyways?”

“Huh?” he asked glancing up yet again. At her irritated expression, he quickly added, “oh, no one.”

“What do you mean no one? Are you talking to yourself on there? All your followers?”

“What? No. It’s just Bucky.”

“Bucky?” she asked, curiosity and excitement clear in her tone. “I didn’t know you were talking to Bucky again.”

“I never stopped talking to Bucky, mom,” he said shortly.

“Hmm. That’s not what it seemed like to me. You two move away and I never hear another word about him.”

“That’s just it mom–we moved away. We live hundreds of miles away from each other. Why would you hear about him?”

“I’m just saying. You were very weird about it after that. Every time I brought him up you always changed the subject–”

“Are you going to finish that?

“–like you’re doing now!” Steve sighed and ground his teeth frustrated. “You used to tell me everything, Steven! I mean, you told me the moment you figured out you were gay! You couldn’t hold it in. Do you remember?”

Steve rolled his eyes, in physical pain now. “Yeah of course I remember, mom.”

“The day after that boy kissed you at that party. Which was, curiously, right when you stopped talking to Bucky.” She hummed and gave him a knowing look.

“Jesus, mom.” Steve rubbed his temples and looked down. He could feel his cheeks heating in embarrassment and didn’t want her to see.

“What? He’s cute and you two were always close!” When she saw that he was about to burst a blood vessel, she said, “I’m just saying! You tell me all about your friends at college, every class you take, every person you date...but Bucky? Nothing.”

Steve clenched his jaw and shrugged his shoulders. “There’s nothing to say mom.”

His mom’s expression changed into a soft tenderness. “Sweetie. I don’t mean to pry. But he was a member of the family. And then he just disappeared.”

“I know mom. But I promise. We just–” he shrugged and looked at the ceiling, “–grew apart.”

Sarah looked at him like she didn’t believe a word he had said and wanted to keep prying–but she didn’t. “Alright then. When are you going to bring him by to see me?”

“He said he came to visit you at the school the other day and brought you lunch.” Steve’s mom was an art teacher at the local elementary school, along with the 20 other odd jobs she had had during his childhood to make ends meet–babysitter, math tutor, waitress, artist. He knew how lucky he was to have her. She had given him her blue eyes, her work ethic, and, unfortunately, her unending curiosity and stubbornness.

“Yes he did and that was very sweet but I want him to come over for a proper dinner together. Like old times.”

She got a far off look in her eyes, full of fondness and a tinge of sadness. He said quickly, “Alright mom I’ll tell him. I’m sure he’d love to come.”

“Good. I want to ask him about that hair of his. It suits him” she said with a glint in her eyes and a teasing smile back on her face.

“Mom, honestly.”

______

Steve let his hand hang out the window as the warm breeze blew through his hair. He gazed at the vibrant sunset out his windshield and listened to the soft sounds of Orville Peck’s _ Hope to Die _drift through the car. Indiana didn’t have much but you could always count on this: the summers were long and the sunsets were never dull.

He had just dropped his mom off and was headed home to fall onto the couch and play video games with Sam for the rest of the night. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket and reached down to see it was a call. From Bucky.

“Hello?”

“Hey Steve,” came the hesitant voice on the other end of the call.

“What’s wrong?” he said hurriedly. Bucky hadn’t called him since they started talking again. Things between them were improving for sure, but their relationship–if you could call it that–was, so far, restricted to text.

“What? Nothing. I’m just...bored,” Bucky said hesitantly. Steve didn’t know what to think. Bucky had actually _ called him. _Just to talk.

“Oh. Well, hey.” Steve could see the paper thin thread that this call balanced on–and he wasn’t going to let it fall. “What are you doing?”

“Laying on my bed, staring at the ceiling.” he said with a chuckle. “Exciting stuff. What are you doing?”

“Driving home. I just had dinner with my mom.”

“That’s nice. How’s she doing?”

“She’s good. She made her own Instagram for her artwork. I’m pretty sure you’ll be disowned if you’re not following her by morning,” Steve said with a grin.

Bucky laughed heartily, “God I can’t wait to see this. Sarah Rogers on Instagram.”

“Yeah it’s really something else. She’s demanding to see you, by the way.”

“I’m sorry, did I not just bring her lunch and her favorite candy last week?” Bucky asked, perplexed.

Steve laughed, “Yeah but you know that’s not good enough. She wants a full dinner. Mostly just to interrogate you about every detail of your life from the past three years.”

Steve smiled at the sound of Bucky’s soft laugh. His voice was quiet, but rough. It crept through the phone and made Steve’s stomach flip. “I would expect nothing less.”

“She also wants to ask about your hair.”

Bucky sighed dramatically. “Everybody wants to ask about the hair. I don’t know what the big deal is. I just grew it out.”

“It looks good on you.” Steve’s heart stopped when he realized what he had said. There was a brief silence before Steve added, “I just mean. It suits you. And people are just curious.” He bit his lip and mentally berated himself for being so stupid.

“Yeah I guess,” Bucky said, but he didn’t sound upset or uncomfortable. He sounded like he had a smile on his face. Steve breathed a sigh of relief. “Don’t you have to get home?” Bucky asked. “I don’t want to keep you.”

Steve’s eyes focused on the road and realized he had been driving around town mindlessly for the entirety of their conversation. “What? No I don’t have anything to do. I have to drive to the store anyway.” There was no way he was missing this to go home and play video games.

“Oh, ok.” Bucky said softly. “So let me ask you something.” Steve's heart skipped a beat. “What’s Mrs. Wilson’s favorite type of flower? I can never remember and I'm going over for dinner this weekend and if I ask Sam he’ll never let me hear the end of it.”

Steve’s heart quieted into a steady rhythm. He laughed loudly, “Sam doesn't even know. It's carnations.”

Bucky sighed in relief. “Thanks. I haven't seen them in a long time.” Steve could hear the slightest bit of nervousness on the edge of his voice. Anyone else wouldn't have even noticed but Steve would know every detail, every pitch and angle of that voice until the day he died.

He tried to put Bucky’s mind at ease. “I'm sure you'll have a good time. They've really missed you. You won't believe how big Chloe and Elise have gotten. But, it's Mrs. Wilson you have to worry about. Ever since I started dating she has been _ relentless _with questions about my love life.” He laughed a little, fondly remembering a few embarrassing evenings. “She doesn't hold back.” Steve held his breath as he waited for Bucky’s response. He wasn't prying but--if Bucky offered up some information, that wasn't Steve’s fault was it?

“Oh, that's ok. There's not much to tell.”

Steve let out the breath he was holding in a huff. “Oh. That's good. Well, I mean–not good that there's not much to tell just–you know. I'm sure things are going great for you. It's just good she won't be able to embarrass you much.” Steve hit the phone against his forehead repeatedly as he cringed. _ Why was he such an idiot? _

Bucky chuckled, “Yeah I guess,” and quickly changed the subject. “So tell me about art history.”

They continued to catch up for the next hour and a half. Steve’s gas tank was empty by the end of the night but he couldn’t have cared less. They talked about college classes and Steve’s performance on the swim team so far. Bucky wanted to know every event he had swam, his times for each one, every time Steve had medaled over the past three years. Steve wasn't too interested in his own swimming career but happily gave up any information Bucky was interested in. He listened to Bucky explain the basics of thermodynamics for a full 30 minutes, completely lost with a small smile plastered on his face the entire time. They talked about Sam’s lack of love life and how much Becca had grown up. They laughed through old memories and bickered over dumb arguments they had never forgotten. The night felt ethereal; eternally frozen in time. But it was tenuous, and it flew by faster than Steve could imagine. When he hung up, Steve felt a lightness in his chest, a blissful ease drifting through every inch of his body as he fell asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter includes some incredible artwork by KittyandMulder!

** _July 28_****_th_ ** ** _, 2013_ **

“Hey! Guys!” Sam Wilson shouted a little too loudly as he stumbled down the sidewalk toward his best friends. “Wait–hey, watch it kid–wait up!” He struggled to keep his duffle bag on his shoulder as he weaved in and out of the other kids.

Steve looked over his shoulder and couldn’t help but chuckle at his best friend. Sam would be the coolest guy in school if he wasn’t such a dork, and Steve loved him for it. He and Bucky were walking to their neighborhood pool for their summer practice before school started but they slowed down for Sam to catch up with them. They took in his disheveled appearance, sucking in deep breaths as he tried to speak.

Bucky gave him a wild look. “Are you dying?”

“What? No,” Sam answered, giving him an equally ridiculous look. “Did you guys hear about Alexander Pierce?”

“Who?” they asked in unison.

Sam rolled his eyes, “Alexander Pierce. From Jefferson High. He dated Sharon’s cousin?” They both gave each other confused looks, then looked at Sam through squinted eyes. He sighed, “The super fast swimmer guy. He beat Steve at State last year?”

Recognition hit their faces immediately and Bucky scoffed, rolling his eyes rather aggressively. “Oh you mean Alex the asshole? The one who false started and somehow got away with it and then rubbed it in Steve’s face? Yeah I remember. He’s like best friends with Brock Rumlow.”

Steve appreciated Bucky sticking up for him, but couldn’t help the small smile at how worked up he got every time someone mentioned last year’s state tournament. “He didn’t false start, Buck. He’s just better than me.” Steve shrugged and kept walking.

“How the hell would you know Stevie? You weren’t watching him, you were about to race!”

“Okay this is not what I came here to discuss!” Sam said quickly. He knew how long these arguments could drag on and he wasn’t interested. “Alex qualified for Nationals.”

“What?” they said in identical shouts.

Sam nodded gravely. “Yup. And they think he’s got a good chance at qualifying for the trials.”

Steve just stared at him, “No fucking way.” The idea of someone they knew actually making it to the Olympics–even just the Olympic trials–blew Steve’s mind.

“Fucking way.” Their faces were still slack in astonishment so Sam went on, “Brock was in my soccer camp and he was bragging about it earlier. Said Alex got himself a personal coach that’s going to take him all the way to the Olympics.”

“Man that’s such bullshit,” Bucky said, pulling his bag higher on his shoulder and sulking as he started walking again. He glanced at Steve, “If you had gotten a coach like that or at least gotten on a fancy club team or something you definitely could’ve made it.”

“Nah I’m not that good,” Steve said with a laugh. “Plus, I had my own personal coach right here.” He grinned and threw his arm over Bucky’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna vomit,” Sam said from behind them with a completely stoic face.

“I’m serious, Cap,” Bucky pressed with a small grin. Ever since Steve had been elected captain of the swim team, Sam and Bucky had called him nothing else, much to his embarrassment. Bucky went on, “you really are that good.”

Steve felt uncomfortable. He didn’t think he would ever be at the Olympics-level but he couldn’t deny the sneaking doubt in the back of his mind that said he could’ve done more. It wasn’t like he wasn’t happy with what he’d accomplished–he was. He had qualified for State every year of high school and had some pretty decent finishes. Coming from the guy who started out scrawny and weak, that was pretty impressive, he thought. But Steve couldn’t help but think that with a bigger team with more resources, maybe he could’ve made it to a Division 1 school. His train of thought faltered. The thought of college made his stomach churn.

There was never any point in dwelling on things like that. Once he figured out how much club teams and personal coaches cost, he dropped it. He knew there was no way his mother could afford it so why waste time hoping for it? He never wanted to make his mom feel bad for not being able to give him what he wanted–especially when she worked so hard to give him everything he had. There was no point in thinking about what could’ve been, but when Alex Pierce shoves it in your face, it gets a little difficult.

“It’s true, Steve,” Sam said solemnly. “You could kick Pierce’s ass.” Steve just shook his head and kept walking. They were getting closer to the pool and Steve was starting to swing his arms, stretching his muscles in preparation. “Hey, but maybe that new coach–what’s his name? Erskine? Maybe he can get you there.”

Steve’s froze with his arm outstretched. His heart sank.

“Who?” Bucky said, turning his head sharply to look at Sam.

Steve opened his mouth but Sam was too quick. “Erskine. The coach at University of Ilinois. I’ve heard he’s pretty good.”

Steve had gone mute.

“Why would that matter?” Bucky asked slowly, “I thought UI was in Chicago?”

Sam just stared at him. They both looked at Steve.

“Um, yeah it–” Steve finally stuttered out, “–it is. I heard back from them. They, uh–they offered me the scholarship.”

“So? You already got accepted to NYU.”

Sam was looking back and forth between the two, realization and dread finding their way onto his face.

“Yeah but,” Steve shrugged, his mouth opening and closing several times. “I got a scholarship. It’s a full ride. I think I’m gonna go there,” he said finally, lamely.

Bucky’s ears had started ringing, faintly.

“Oh,” was all he could manage. “Yeah, no that–that makes sense.”

“Bucky–”

“Hey I’m gonna run ahead. I told Fury I’d help him set up the lane lines. I’ll see you there.”

Steve could only stare as Bucky jogged towards the pool, his shoulders tight with tension.

“What the fuck_ , _Sam?” He said harshly, suddenly.

“Don’t look at me like that! You’re the one who hasn’t told him!”

Steve opened his mouth and closed it. He turned back towards Bucky helplessly. His hand rubbed the back of his neck, moving aggressively from the back of his head to the front, scrubbing his face in anxiety.

“What the _ fuck, _Sam?” he said again.

“How have you not told him yet? It’s been _ two weeks, _Steve” Sam said

Steve groaned. “I don’t know, Sam,” he said desperately.

He had meant to tell Bucky, he really had. He just didn’t know how. It’s not like he was telling Bucky he was dying; it’s not like it was important. That’s what he told himself but he knew in the bottom of his chest that this was desperately, fiercely important. They had made a promise–a pact–to go to school together. And he broke that.

It’s just that… Well, Bucky had been accepted so quickly to NYU. Of course he had–they would be idiots not to accept him. But Steve had been waitlisted. And no amount of reassurances from Bucky that _ this happens to everyone _had made it not hurt. So, yeah, he had kept looking. He also knew there was no chance at that point of him getting a scholarship. He knew his mother couldn’t afford N-Y-freaking-U and he didn’t want to drown in debt so he used what advantages he had.

He looked at the smaller colleges that were offering him swimming scholarships. He knew he couldn’t swim at a D1 school–or get into the art program at NYU apparently–so he decided to compromise. By the time he received his acceptance from NYU, he already had an offer from the University Sam was going to and they were offering him a full ride. Bucky had been so excited when he saw the NYU letter, that Steve couldn’t find the guts to tell him.

He knew it only made it worse that he and Sam were going together. He knew what it looked like. But he couldn’t justify thousands of dollars in debt just to be with his best friend–no matter how bad he wanted to. He just hoped Bucky would understand.

_______

Bucky did, in fact, understand. He understood that logically, of course Steve should go to State. Who in their right mind would give up a full ride? He understood that Steve would get to keep swimming while also studying art, which was all he had ever wanted to do. He also understood that Chicago was a great place to live, and Steve would be with Sam and they would be closer to home.

But no matter how clearly he understood, it didn’t stop the ringing in his ears.

His heart had taken refuge somewhere beneath his stomach, leaving his chest cavity empty for some time. His body felt both irritatingly alive with anxiety and lifeless with dread. He mindlessly went through the motions of setting up the pool for practice, without muttering even a greeting to Coach Fury. When the rest of the team started to filter into the pool, he jumped in the water and kicked off, starting the warm-up that was written on the board.

He cut through the water, his body taking stroke after stroke robotically. He pushed himself harder than he should have for warm-up. His muscles ached and his lungs burned with the need for oxygen. He ignored them both.

He was embarrassed for taking this so harshly. Surely everyone had been separated from their best friend at some point in their lives and he was sure they hadn’t reacted like this. Besides, this was what college was for! To meet new people, make new friends. He should be excited to hang out with people other than Steve and Sam.

Bucky knew that wouldn’t happen, though. He knew he had trouble socializing and making friends. He detested small talk and he was incapable of getting to know new people. He also hated sharing a space with anyone other than Steve and _ Oh, God, _ now he would have to find a new roommate.

But, oddly enough, these weren’t the things that upset him the most. He was mostly just _ sad _ about losing Steve.

He knew they wouldn’t get to see each other often, if ever. Steve would be thousands of miles away with all new friends and interests and classes and hangout spots that Bucky would know nothing about.

He knew it was dumb but _ God, _ he was going to _ miss _Steve. He wouldn’t see Steve every weekend or listen to him complain about his math homework. He wouldn’t get to hear Steve’s giggle or see how flushed his cheeks get after only two beers.

At that, a horrible thought joined him in the water, sliding up close and nestling itself solidly in the back of his mind. _ Maybe this is why he’s leaving. _

Bucky’s feelings for Steve, which he’d been steadily ignoring for the past year, had only continued to grow stronger. He knew what they were now and they weren’t going away but he wasn’t too concerned about them anymore. He had learned how to conceal them–to enjoy Steve as a friend and bury everything else.

Now, however, he wasn’t so sure.

Maybe he hadn’t done such a good burying job. Maybe he had left some loose ends uncovered, maybe some dirt had shifted. Maybe Steve had noticed the way Bucky stared at his lips a little too often.

Maybe it had made Steve uncomfortable.

Bucky reasoned that if the roles were reversed he would want out too. He wouldn’t want to be surrounded by someone who couldn’t contain their feelings; someone who ruined a perfectly good friendship.

Bucky felt his goggles begin to fill with water that was made of salt instead of chlorine. His muscles burned with the exertion of each stroke and he steadily avoided Steve’s eyes every time they rested at the wall. His straight face was the dam struggling to hold back his irrational feelings and his humiliating misery. His jaw ached with the pain of holding it all in.

But he would do it, all of it, for Steve.

Bucky Barnes could hold his breath for one minute and twelve seconds but he would hold his breath for an entire lifetime waiting for Steve to love him back.

_________

** _June 25_****_th_ ** ** _, 2018_ **

Bucky trudged through the irritatingly packed parking lot towards the pool entrance. The shrieks and screams of way too many children with way too much energy were already assaulting his ears and he wished for a thunderstorm, a horrible stomach flu, an invasion of sentient robots–anything to get him out of work today. Well, maybe not the stomach flu. That would be decidedly worse and he wouldn’t be able to get shaved ice with Steve today.

_ Steve _ . He cursed that name as he crossed the threshold into the main building, dodging kids at the front desk and pointedly ignoring the wet diaper on the floor outside the locker room. _ Steve _ was the reason he was wishing for death at the moment. _ Steve _ had kept him up until 4:30 in the morning arguing over the most inane things he could think of. Bucky swore that kid would argue that the sky wasn’t blue and would do it so fiercely, so earnestly that, by the end, anyone in the vicinity would either be convinced or too exhausted to care anymore.

Since their first phone call about a week ago, Bucky had been talking to Steve almost every night. They talked about everything they could think of–their friends, their favorite movies, their weird habits. There was a lot to catch up on after three years apart. And, of course, all that talking usually led to arguing. Last night they argued over the best flavor of shaved ice, the superior taco truck in town, and which was the greatest film of Meryl Streep’s career (_ The Devil Wears Prada, _ obviously). They could’ve hung up– _ should’ve _ hung up–at a decent time but neither of them could do it. Bucky was self-aware enough to know that he wasn’t just enjoying these calls for the stimulating conversation. He and Steve were _ friends _ and he… didn’t hate it.

The only thing he hated was coming to work the next morning at 9 a.m. to be greeted by the exceedingly bright sun, an overexcited Clint Barton, and way too many people.

“Hey Buckaroo!”

Bucky closed his eyes and called after Clint as he bounded out of the room, forever in a rush. “I told you I hate that name, Clint!”

“Aww do we have a grumpy Bucky this morning?”

Bucky turned his glare to Maria, leaning on the arm of the couch, scrunching up her face in mock pity. Her short, brown hair was down in waves today, relaxed and vibrant from the sun. Bucky would have told her how nice it looked but clearly this was not the time. “I’m not grumpy. I’m tired.”

“That’s the grumpiest Bucky face I’ve ever seen. And I’ve dealt with a lot of grumpy Bucky in my life.”

“And we’re all weeping with gratitude for your service, Maria.”

“Thank you. I’m glad someone is finally recognizing me.” Maria stuck her chin out in satisfaction and Bucky flipped her off. “Seriously, what’s wrong? You’re usually less… aggressive first thing in the morning.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I just didn’t have time to get coffee. I woke up late.”

“How did you not have time to get coffee when you’re still 30 minutes early?”

Bucky’s face fell and he turned to look at her, his face expressionless. He said nothing for a moment. For dramatic effect, of course. Then: “What do you mean I’m 30 minutes early?”

Maria’s lips pressed together tightly to hide her smile as she pointed to the whiteboard behind his head. Bucky turned around and, sure enough, there on the schedule was his name. Scheduled at 10am, not 9:30. He let out the most dramatic sigh he could muster, threw his head back, and slumped his shoulder as he groaned in frustration. “Why do these things always happen to me?”

He dragged himself over to the couch to sit next to Maria. She patted her lap consolingly and said, “Come here you little disaster.” Bucky reluctantly leaned over and laid his head in Maria’s lap. He squirmed around elbowing her in the side, trying to get comfortable and trying to annoy her. “Ugh,” Maria complained. “Just lay like a normal person!”

He looked up at her with wide eyes and a face of pure innocence as he said, “You know I can’t do that.”

People came in and out of the breakroom in a continuous stream and every time the door opened, Bucky closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose to distract himself from the noise seeping into the room. When the door stayed open for more than a few seconds, he yelled a few mildly intimidating threats in the general direction until it was closed again. 

“Seriously why are you so tired?” Maria asked. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“No I was just up all night talking on the phone,” Bucky said.

“With who?”

“Just Steve.”

Maria said nothing. Bucky opened his eyes and stared at her accusingly. She was smiling but she didn’t have the teasing expression Bucky expected. She just stared at him with kind eyes and hummed quietly.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Her mouth dropped open in surprise. “I didn’t even say anything!”

“Mhmm.”

“I think it’s nice” she said finally, her tone completely sincere, “that you guys are friends again.”

“I guess so,” Bucky said, voice uncertain.

“Is that why you’re so grumpy? Because Steve has the day off?”

“No,” Bucky said petulantly. “And I’m not grumpy.”

Maria nodded her head slowly and started to card her fingers through Bucky’s hair. His eyes slid closed at the gentle touch and she started to braid small strands of his hair.

“Did you remember the flowers?” Bucky asked.

“Yes, Bucky.”

“And the Junior–”

“Yes I got the Junior Mints too. They were both waiting by her bedside this morning when she woke up. I think I can remember my own anniversary thanks,” Maria said irritatingly rolling her eyes.

“Says the girl who forgot her _ birthday _ two years ago!”

Maria swatted him on the top of the head. “Shut up! I was studying for finals.”

“After the huge, extravagant scavenger hunt she planned for your birthday!” Bucky shook his head in shame. “Tragic.”

Maria groaned loudly in annoyance and grabbed a throw pillow to cover his face with.

Bucky shoved the pillow off his face and said, “I’m just trying to look out for you! I don’t want another cold shoulder Natasha in our house again I can’t do it.” He shook his head solemnly as he pleaded with his eyes.

“God you’re irritating.”

As Bucky was reaching back to elbow her in the side again he heard someone walk in the room. He glanced up, ready to take the head of the next person to leave the door open, when he noticed a tall, blonde beefcake of a man standing in the doorway grinning.

“Steve,” he said brightly.

Steve’s smile grew only sweeter. “Hey Buck.”

“What are you doing here?” he asked as he sat up, leaning on his elbows. He took advantage of the free view to look Steve up and down. He was wearing another pair of his ridiculously small shorts, red again with black stripes down the sides. He wore a black t-shirt, a size too small as usual, and his hair was ruffled messily from sleep. His beard was deliciously long and his skin had picked up more of the tan that summer always gave him. He looked, frankly, incredibly hot.

“I brought you this,” Steve said, holding up an iced coffee and extending it to Bucky.

Bucky’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open in surprise as he stared at the cup in front of him, deliciously enticing, dripping with condensation in the heat. He recovered quickly and grabbed the drink as his face morphed into a sweet smile. “You didn’t have to do that.” Steve smiled and looked down and–_ was that a blush? Good lord. _“Is this–”

“Iced vanilla latte with an extra shot? Of course,” Steve said proudly.

Bucky knew he had an exceptionally dorky grin on his face as he took his first sip of the drink but he couldn’t help it. Steve had brought him coffee. _ On his day off. _ Just because he knew that Bucky would be tired and wouldn’t be able to get his usual morning coffee with Natasha. Not only that but _ he remembered his order. _

Maria looked between the two of them, lips pulled together tightly to stifle the grin struggling to break free. “That was really sweet of you, Steve. Isn’t it your day off?”

Steve shrugged, “Yeah but I knew Bucky would be running late. And you know how he gets without his caffeine.”

“You bet your ass I do.”

“Alright that’s enough from you two,” Bucky said frowning. He definitely did not like the two of them ganging up against him. They had way too much power. Bucky looked up at Steve and physically _ couldn’t stop _the grin from forming. “Thanks for the coffee Stevie.” Steve nodded and his cheeks got even redder as he looked down. “But why do you have your trunks on?” 

“Well I just figured we would need some extra help today and I was coming down anyways. It _ is _ shaved ice day,” he said with a shrug. He was talking, of course, about the annual event at the pool that literally just consisted of a popular shaved ice company bringing their truck to the pool to sell snow cones. Bucky didn’t understand it but it was by far their busiest day of the year outside of holidays. This town showed up in droves for snow cones and swimming pools. Steve was right, they could definitely use the help, but Bucky was just happy to see his stupid face. He sipped his coffee as Steve and Maria discussed the schedule for the day.

Steve was one of the most genuinely _ nice _people Bucky had ever known. This was the kind of thing he did for his friends–he would drop anything to help Bucky or Sam or any one of them. He didn’t think twice about it; it’s just who he was. Bucky resented how much he loved Steve for it. Resented the way it made him feel. Steve was just being himself and Bucky always took things too far. Made them too personal.

“Guys!” Bucky turned toward the sudden noise bursting through the door. It was Sam, sliding across the wet floors until he barreled into Bucky, grabbing onto his shoulders for balance. “_ Guysguysguysguys _.” They all just stared at him with wide eyes until he continued. “Guess who’s–oh, hey Steve–” Sam glanced at Steve before turning to the others to continue. He must've realized something important, though, because he turned back to Steve with wide eyes and an excited grin. “Steve! Guess who's here!”

“I don't think I could guess if I tried,” Steve deadpanned.

“Scott Lang!”

Steve’s face scrunched up in annoyance. “Oh, no.”

Sam’s face twisted into a maniacal grin. “Oh, yes.”

Steve leveled him with his most serious face and added in his stern, no-nonsense voice he usually reserved for the poorly behaved kids at the pool. “Sam, don't.” Maria giggled at this.

“Scott Lang from high school? The one that was on the team with us?” Bucky asked.

“The very same.” Sam answered, still grinning.

Bucky was confused. “I always liked him. I thought he was nice.” Scott was a year younger than them so they weren't very close but when you spend ten hours a week with the same people, you get to know pretty much everyone. He was young, easily excitable, and he had a mean backstroke.

“He _ is _nice.” Steve insisted.

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Sam said consolingly, “I didn't realize you guys were friends now. I'll go tell him Cap is here, see if he wants to come say hi.”

Sam turned to leave and Steve’s hand shot out to grab his bicep. “Sam, stop.”

“People still call you that?” Bucky asked, referring to the nickname. It was, perhaps, not what most people would've picked up from this conversation, but he was confused. Steve always hated that nickname.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately.”

“He went from being captain of this team to being captain of the State College team, _ in his first year. _First ever to do it. So it stuck.” Sam shrugged. “Plus he has a very commanding presence, wouldn't you say, Bucky?”

Bucky shrugged at Sam’s suggestive grin, looking away. “I guess.” Bucky was even more confused now. “Why are you avoiding Scott?”

“I'm _ not.” _

“Scott is…kind of in love with Steve.” Maria said.

“Everyone is in love with Steve,” Bucky said flatly.

Sam pointed at him. “That's true. But when you sleep with the guy who's obsessed with you, he gets… a little clingy.” Maria snorted.

Bucky’s stomach dropped. “You slept with him?” _ Why? _He wanted to ask. Why would Steve sleep with a guy? Steve was straight.

Steve shrugged helplessly, his face contorted in discomfort. “I don't know. He's nice. I was lonely. It was the Fourth of July party. We were drunk.” He looked at Bucky, an intense, unreadable expression on his face.

Apparently Steve was not straight.

“That was two years ago. Every summer since then, Scott comes by to see if Cap wants to _ hang out,” _Sam said, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“I mean, he's fun to hang out with but I think he's just looking for something...more serious. And I don't want that.” Steve glanced at Bucky from under his eyes. Bucky stared back, face unmoving. “With him.” Steve quickly added. Bucky’s head swam.

“Now it's just fun to watch Steve try to avoid him all summer.” Sam grinned. “Oh look there he is now!”

Three heads followed Sam’s pointed finger out the dirty, smudged window to find Scott, roaming around outside the building. He was leaning against a pillar, trying, and clearly failing, to look casual. He glanced at his phone and back up, looking through the crowd intently. Bucky hadn’t seen him in three years but he looked mostly the same. He was tall and slightly tanned. He was lean but muscular. He had short, dark brown hair that curled up at the ends, which he had swept to the side. He was decently attractive, Bucky thought, but he didn’t see the appeal.

“Why don’t you just go talk to him?” Bucky asked. “It seems like he really wants to see you.”

“Because then he’ll text me every day for the rest of the summer,” Steve groaned.

“Once you get a taste of Cap you never forget it,” Sam choked out between laughs. Steve reached over to swat the back of his head. Sam dodged out of the way.

“You sure have a lot to say for someone who hasn’t spoken to a woman in six months,” Steve shot back.

“It’s only been three and you know it.”

Bucky tuned them out as he stared out the window. _ Steve’s not straight _was still echoing through his mind and the more he tried not to think about it, the more it would repeat. So what did this mean? On one hand, Bucky wasn’t entirely shocked. Maybe he had a suspicion, maybe he always knew, maybe it was the super short shorts that no straight man would ever be caught dead in. Bucky was just surprised. A little taken aback. A little sore that Steve never told him. Obviously there hadn’t been much opportunity for him to tell Bucky in the past few years but for some reason Bucky thought it would’ve come up. That Steve would’ve thought to mention one of the most significant things about himself. He couldn’t figure out why it bothered him so much.

He watched Scott pocket his phone and disappear through the crowd and he tried to soothe the sting it left behind. He was upset Steve hadn’t told him and he had no right to be, he knew that. But the ache of a sunburn doesn’t disappear when you finally find some shade. It lingers. It morphs from a burn, hot and relentless, to a sting–present and painful. Just barely there but always _ there. _ He was lost in the spiral of his mind. _ Steve’s not straight. I shouldn’t care. I really care. _ And the cycle repeats.

Maria turned to him and asked, “you okay?” She said it quietly, muted and close. A secret kept between friends. A kindness freely given and eagerly taken. Bucky couldn’t tell if she could see every piece of confusion and guilt and jealousy surging through his head and he couldn’t tell if she wanted him to explain himself but he wouldn’t even know what to say if he could so he just said, “yeah,” and fell back helplessly into the spiral.

The topic of conversation had finally changed after Scott walked away and they were now arguing over shift assignments for the day. Bucky crawled his way out of his daydream-mind-spiral to the sound of Maria complaining about her new placement in the kiddie section of the pool.

“It just makes more sense to keep you there all day. I’m going to be floating, mostly monitoring the concession area with the shaved ice and everything.”

“Right,” Maria said flatly. “The area that’s right next to the lap pool.” She crossed her arms and looked between Steve and Bucky.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Steve asked innocently. Bucky wasn’t sure why it mattered. He was guarding the lap pool today. Steve didn’t need to worry about watching that spot as well.

Maria rolled her eyes and said, “Fine,” just as Natasha appeared in the doorway. She breezed by the group, her dark red hair flowing behind her, vintage sunglasses covering her eyes.

“Hey,” she laid a hand on Steve’s shoulder and smirked as she said, “Scott’s looking for you. I told him to check the breakroom. Oh, hey, look who it is.”

_____________

Shaved Ice Day turned out to be even busier than expected. Steve didn't have time to visit Bucky at his guard chair or text him throughout the day. Bucky was only slightly disappointed, or at least that’s what he told himself. The place was packed with people walking around licking cones made of ice, brightly colored syrup dripping down their hands and staining the concrete below. Bucky watched first with disdain and then a bit of jealousy for the cool relief after sitting in the hot sun all day. He wanted to go buy a snow cone for Steve to surprise him–cherry, of course–but he didn’t even have time for a full break. So he sat in his guard chair and watched from afar.

See, the thing about Steve Rogers was that he was Steve Rogers. That could mean so many things but it mostly meant he was a giant, stubborn teddy bear of a man who was wildly serious about his job. Steve recognized the importance of the work they did and maybe, sometimes, took it a little too far.

Bucky watched as he roamed up and down the length of the lap pool, stern face firmly in place, whistle clamped tightly between his teeth. On a day this busy, Bucky heard the shriek of Steve’s whistle at least once every 5 minutes. To Steve, power-walking was running, horseplay was basically cage fighting, and splashing your friends could be considered attempted murder. Okay, maybe he was being a little dramatic. Steve loved these kids–that was why he enforced the rules so strictly. He saw every kid as himself at that age–scrawny and weak, barely able to hold himself above water. He was convinced they were going to get themselves killed out of sheer ignorance and stubbornness. Which, coming from the kid who decided jumping in the deep end was the best way to learn how to swim, was pretty ironic.

Bucky, on the other hand, could tell which kids were stronger, more at ease in the water, and which kids needed more practice. He seldom blew his whistle. He loved watching the diving competitions they made up (which were _ technically _against the rules), and didn’t mind the kids splashing each other--or him. Last week he watched what turned into basically wrestle mania in front of him before he blew his whistle. Steve was turning red by the time Bucky actually said something to the kids, and not from the sun.

Bucky caught Natasha’s eye from across the pool and smirked. Natasha liked to refer to Steve as Captain Do-As-I-Say-Not-As-I-Do. It was a long title but it was appropriate. He decided to hop down and walk over for a better view of Steve-in-action. They chuckled as Steve plucked a small girl from the water. She was practically swallowed by the floaties on her arms and was wearing–for some inexplicable reason–flippers at least two times the size of her body on her feet. Bucky had to admit, she was a danger to herself and others being alone in the big pool. But as Steve reached down to pick her up, his whistle fell from around his neck. Before he could bend down to pick it up, Peter–a kid who had been around all summer and loved to cause trouble–ran by and swiped it off the ground. He and his two best friends, Erik and Cassie, dodged Steve and kept running, squealing with laughter the entire time.

Steve’s face turned as red as a cherry snow cone as he chased after the three, still holding the little girl as she dangled from his arms. Tears of laughter were falling down both Bucky and Natasha’s face as they watched. Steve had almost lost it last week after he found Peter teaching his friends how to play _ Dead Man _after Steve had already warned him once, so Bucky couldn’t imagine the punishment that awaited this kid. Clint appeared behind Bucky and rested his head on Bucky’s shoulder as he watched the show, laughing hysterically.

“If he didn’t react exactly as they want him to, they wouldn’t mess with him so much.” Clint said through his laughter.

“Yes but that would mean so much less fun for us, Clint.” Bucky said reasonably.

“True.”

Bucky watched as the kids started to circle Steve, running between his legs and dodging his grip each time. They just laughed harder.

The realization was slow this time around. Bucky took note of his ridiculously wide smile as he watched Steve quickly lose his cool. He noticed the way his eyes tended to linger too long on Steve during the day. The way he walked, the way he swung his whistle around his fingers, the way he clutched his chest when he laughed. How Bucky couldn’t go a day without talking to him and he never regretted losing sleep over their dumb conversations. He remembered the way it felt hearing that Steve had chosen not to come out to him, even worse hearing that he had hooked up with someone else. He admitted that he probably cared less about who Steve chose to tell about his sexuality and more about who Steve chose to _ be with. _Bucky knew why he felt this way. He wasn’t ready to say it out loud–not even in his own head. He was too fragile for that. But he knew.

He wasn't exactly comforted by this realization. He wasn't ready to suppress his feelings all over again. To pretend like what he felt wasn't eating away at his insides ready to burst out of him at any second. He knew how this scenario ended. He knew that he would tell himself _ but what if _ so many times that it would end up being his mantra. That he would tack it onto the end of a hopeless fantasy enough times that one day he would listen to it. He found out _ what if. _And it destroyed him.

___________

By the end of the day, the pool deck was filled with trash, the water was filled with god-knows-what, and Bucky’s head was filled with fog. He was exhausted–they all were–but he hadn't been able to take his mind off of Steve and all the turmoil that came with that name. He felt like he was deep underwater, weighed down by vast, unyielding pressure. He tried to push his way toward the surface, tried to find the pocket of fresh air that would soothe his aching lungs, but no matter how hard he tried, his arms and legs were powerless against the force above him. He was too far down. Too far gone.

Mercifully, the chaos of the day distracted him enough to make it pass relatively quickly. He was scheduled as the closer and was unusually happy to have some time alone, cleaning up the pool and putting away the equipment. Most of the others offered to stay and help but Bucky easily brushed them off.

The air buzzed with the sounds of crickets and cicadas, always close. The street lights lit up a haze that sat stark against the sunset and Bucky breathed in the fresh air–the sweetness of summer mixed with the harshness of the chlorine. He loved it.

As he dragged equipment across the concrete he stared longingly at the water. The heat hadn’t let up all day and he never did get a chance to share a snow cone with Steve. Sweat bloomed on the back of his neck and trailed down his back despite the setting of the sun. He knew if he kept stacking pool chairs before he cooled off, he would end up with a headache and a piss poor bad mood so he decided to take a quick swim. It was for the good of his family, he told himself.

Bucky quickly abandoned the chair he was dragging and walked to the end of the pool. He stopped at the edge, took off his sunglasses, and wound his whistle from around his neck to lay on the ground beside him. He lined up his feet, toes curling around the tiled edge, and stared at the abyss before him. The water was blue and clear all the way to the bottom of the pool, paint corroded and stripping away from years of wear. The water moved in small waves, pulsating this way and that, pulled in an opposite direction every time it tried to go the way it was told. It swelled and crested, flowed and drifted, forever cursed to follow one directionless pressure after another. Bucky didn’t think it was fair. But the waves carried on anyways, awkward movements elegantly reflecting the soft purple light above him. It was less of an abyss and more of an enchanting invitation.

Without another thought he bent his knees and, inevitably, accepted the invitation.

He hit the water with a familiar smoothness and he glided forward, his body straight as an arrow, his muscles tight. When he broke the surface and took his first stroke, he felt nothing but comfort and power. He hadn’t swam much since he left Indiana. He had worked out weekly this summer, of course, and that included a few laps but he hadn’t put his heart into it. It was hard to get into back to the thing he loved so much because it was so entwined, so inevitably tied, to other things he loved so desperately and had lost. Swimming reminded him of home and it reminded him of Steve. It sounded strange but he couldn’t remember a time spent in the water without Steve. The swim team, the river behind the clearing, the one time he had ever gone to the ocean–it was always with Steve. He reveled in his return to his home, the thing that had made him who he was, and he reveled in his ability to do that on his own. To find peace in his mind and a comfort in his chest.

He glided through the pool, his arms taking strokes as effortlessly as ever, his legs kicking leisurely. He cupped his hands and propelled himself forward, flipped at the perfect moment, and kicked off the wall with power and surety. He hadn’t felt this comfortable in his own body in a long time. The flood of the water in his ears quieted the noise in his brain and he pushed himself even harder, moving through the water like he was made for it. And perhaps he was.

At his next flip, he noticed a pair of legs standing at the edge of the pool facing towards him. He thought he recognized the shape of the calves and the tan of the skin but he waited until he finished the lap before stopping and holding onto the edge to glance up. Standing above him, face framed in the hazy glow of the sunset, was Steve.

“Hey,” he said.

“Having an after-hours swim?” Steve said with a grin.

“Thought I’d at least try to get back in shape. What are you doing here? Thought you went home.”

“I think you’re doing alright,” Steve said with a smirk. Bucky didn’t know how to feel about that. He continued, “I left my phone charging in the breakroom.”

Bucky planted his hands on the tile and lifted himself out of the water, water spilling off his shoulders and hips as he stood. “Glad you found it. You gotta watch people around here.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Bucky turned, wordlessly picked up the chair he had abandoned and stacked it with the others at the edge of the deck. He turned around and noticed Steve’s eyes on his back. “You gonna help? Or just keep staring?”

Steve blinked, muttered a “yeah sorry,” and jogged to the next set of lawn chairs. They were long and heavy and, of course, didn’t fold in any helpful way. Because of their awkward shape and legs that jutted out at weird angles, it was impossible to carry more than one at a time. They were the bane of every guard’s life. Steve, of course, grabbed one in each hand and took them to the pile without a hint of strain. Bucky rolled his eyes.

They continued this way for awhile, dragging and stacking, without saying a word. Bucky knew Steve wanted to talk–when did the kid ever shut up?–but Bucky didn’t have anything to say. He was happy to be in Steve’s presence without having to parse through his complicated, conflicting emotions.

“You alright, Buck?”

_ That didn’t last long. _

“Yeah, I’m alright.”

“You’ve been a little quiet today.”

“Have I? Didn’t mean to be.”

“Haven’t heard much from you since this morning.”

“It was a busy day. And I didn’t get much sleep last night, as you know.”

Steve let out a laugh at that, but it was quick and light. “Yeah, I know.” Bucky thought back to their late night conversation the night before, how easy and simple it felt compared to what he felt now. He wasn’t sure what exactly had changed. Whether it was his realization of his feelings for Steve or his realization that Steve had always had, and always would have, a life outside of him that didn’t need or concern him. It was jarring. “You sure you’re alright Bucky?” Steve asked again.

“Yeah Steve I’m fine,” Bucky said tersely. And he was going to leave it at that, he was. But suddenly, maybe it was the fog he had been under all day or the peace he found in the water, he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. This must have been how Steve felt every day. “I just thought you would have told me.”

“Told you what?”

“That you had...you know. Slept with Scott.”

“Why would I have told you that?”

“I don’t know. We’ve been talking a lot lately.”

“Yeah we have. But why would a random hookup from two years ago come up in our conversations? I didn’t even think you were friends with Scott?”

“I’m not,” Bucky huffed. He was frustrated now. He couldn’t figure out how to say what he wanted to say. “I just mean...why you didn’t tell me that you slept with Scott and not, say, Hope. From the team.”

Steve paused and an unreadable expression crossed his face. “You mean why I slept with a guy instead of a girl?” Bucky nodded. “I’m bisexual Bucky. I thought you knew that.”

Bucky’s head snapped up. “Why would I know that?” he demanded.

Steve looked taken aback. “I don’t know. I’ve been out since freshman year of college. I just thought it had...gotten around.”

“Well that’s not surprising.”

“What isn’t?”

“That you wouldn’t tell me. That you would tell everyone except for me and wait for it to _ get around. _”

“What are you talking about Bucky? It’s not like we’ve talked a lot in the past three years.”

“Yeah and whose fault is that?” Bucky said bitterly.

“I don’t know, maybe the guy who left without a word and never called again?”

Bucky could tell they were stepping into something, and it wasn’t where he intended to go, but he couldn’t hold himself back.

“I’m sorry, who was the one who decided to move to _ Chicago _and failed to tell me? And the phone works both ways, Steve. You could’ve called any time.”

“I knew you wouldn’t pick up!” Steve yelled. He was angry now. His face had turned red and he was breathing heavily. The chairs lay abandoned next to them. “You were so pissed about me taking a good opportunity that you didn’t speak to me for weeks when you found out!”

“A _ good opportunity? _ You had good opportunities in New York! And you passed them all up because you were scared. We had a _ deal, _Steve.” His voice was wavering now. “You promised. We would go to school together, live in New York like we always wanted–”

“Like _ you _always wanted!” Steve interrupted. “Did you ever stop and ask if I still wanted to go? If I wanted to go to some expensive, pretentious art program that wouldn’t lead to anything?”

“Well they definitely won’t lead anywhere if you refuse to try!” Bucky laughed sarcastically. “That works out perfectly for you, huh?” They were hitting where it counted now. They knew each other’s weaknesses more intimately than their own, and they knew exactly what to say to make it sting. There was no holding back. This had been building for three years and needed–demanded–an outlet. Steve was staring at him, breathing roughly through his nose. “And you know exactly why I left.” Bucky said quietly.

“Bucky–”

“Don’t. I’m not going there with you.” Bucky said slowly. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t hear this again. Not when his chest had already been cracked today.

“I just think we should talk about that,” Steve said, desperate now.

“We are! And, as usual, it’s not helping anything.”

“Because you don’t _ listen! _ ” Steve dragged his hands down his face roughly. “God that’s what always made me so mad about this. I didn’t go to New York because I didn’t want to be with you, Bucky,” and Bucky hated the way Steve said that–it was cruel–but he continued, “I went because I got a full ride scholarship! I could continue swimming _ and _ go to art school _ and _not bankrupt my mother! I just wanted you to get that. Any part of that.”

“Of course I understood that, Steve! You think I don’t understand the cost of college tuition? You think when my dad abandoned us he left us some kind of college fund? _ Here ya go kids, sorry I can’t make it for the rest of your life but don’t let me forget to fund your education?” _Steve threw his hands in the air and turned away. Bucky was going too far now and he knew it but he couldn’t help it. “It wasn’t about that. You had scholarship options in New York. Just because they weren’t NYU doesn’t mean they weren’t good schools. You were just scared. Because they were fancy art institutes and you didn’t want them to tell you your art was bad.”

“_ Of course I was Bucky!” _Steve shouted. “I’ll never not be scared of putting my art out there–that’s kind of the whole point! But those programs don’t guarantee any kind of career. And I needed some certainty in my life!”

“Well I’m glad you finally got it,” Bucky laughed sarcastically.

“Great,” Steve said bitterly, turning away.

Bucky didn’t know what to say but he knew that whatever he said next would be so blindingly harsh that he bent down and picked up the lawn chair he had been carrying. Slowly, quietly, they both returned to picking up furniture and equipment and stacking it in its proper place. They picked up trash and dragged the bags to the dumpsters. They did it all in silence. Both fuming mad at first, but then quietly contemplative as their anger subsided but the hurt remained. They released their frustration into the lawn chairs they dragged across the grass and the bags of trash they hurled into the dumpster. By the end, they were both sweaty and exhausted, breathing heavily.

Bucky had descended into a kind of calm, tranquil void. He felt numb and raw at the same time. Closed off from the world but sliced open for everyone to see. His anger dissipated and all that was left–hurt, vulnerability, sadness–was clear and apparent.

There wasn’t anything else to do. Their jobs were done. But they both stood in the middle of the deck and watched the sky change from purple to orange, watched the water move softly below them. Bucky didn’t want to leave things this way–not after all the progress they had made. He knew how Steve felt about him and he didn’t want his own feelings to stand in the way of their friendship.

“I was scared,” he said quietly. Steve looked down at him in surprise. “I keep talking about how scared you were but it was me. I was scared to go on my own.”

“I’m sorry, Bucky. I was scared too.” Steve was staring at him so earnestly, so intently that all he could do was stare.

“I know Chicago was the right choice for you, I do. I respect your choice.” Bucky was surprising himself with his honesty. He wasn’t planning on telling Steve any of this but it flowed out of him like crashing waves, seemingly directionless pressure pointing him in a new direction_ . _“But I was going to miss you Steve. I was scared of how much I would miss you.” He looked down at his feet.

“I missed you so much Buck,” Steve said so quietly, it was almost a whisper. They were standing close now, close enough that Bucky could feel Steve’s breath at his temple. “Not just when you left–it killed me when you left–but the whole time. I’ve missed you everyday for three years, Bucky.”

Something came alive in Bucky’s stomach and flew from one end to the other, crashing into everything as it went. He knew Steve didn’t mean it in that way but the pounding of his heartbeat drowned out any logical thinking he could come up with. He looked up at Steve, and the pounding increased. They were standing so close.

He knew this wasn’t what Steve wanted. He knew Steve wasn’t interested in him–not in _ that way _ –but Steve was looking at him with such intensity, such _ energy. _Bucky was so consumed with the thought he couldn’t find his way out. Before he could think, before he could stop himself, his arms came up and he pushed.

Bucky shoved Steve backwards into the pool and he fell with a splash. He stood up, clothes soaked, hair lying in wet strands across his eyes, and he sputtered out, “What the hell, Bucky?”

Bucky’s eyes were frozen wide and his mouth was wide open in surprise–he was probably as surprised as Steve was–and he let out a shocked laugh. He started to laugh some more and then he couldn’t stop. The sight was just too funny–Steve, standing in the pool fully dressed, soaking wet, and looking up at Bucky with the most indignant face he had ever seen. He was like a giant golden retriever who had just been given a bath. Adorably betrayed.

Bucky was cracking up at this point, clutching his stomach as he doubled over. Steve said, “oh that’s how it is, huh?” and before Bucky could blink he was out of the pool and had a grip on Bucky’s arm. He dragged them both into the water behind him. They landed with a crash, Bucky cradled by the water and Steve’s enormous arms. He shot out of the water with a gasp and turned around to gape at Steve.

“I can’t believe you!” he shouted through a smile.

“_ Me? _Look what you’ve done! I was dry! How am I supposed to drive home now?” Steve barely made it to the end of his sentence, so forcefully overtaken by laughs.

Bucky bit his lip and tried to hold in his own giggles. “Guess you’ll have to walk.”

“You little punk!” Steve said through his grin as he jumped on top of Bucky’s shoulders, weighing him down in an attempt to dunk him under the water. Bucky maneuvered out of his grip by diving down into the water and back until he could swim around Steve’s body and grasp his–ridiculously huge–shoulders and pull him backwards into the water. They wrestled around for a bit longer, grabbing and pushing at wet skin and taught muscles, until Bucky was leaning on his elbows on Steve’s shoulders, pushing down with all his strength. Steve had his hands around Bucky’s hips and his face was pushed against Bucky’s chest. Suddenly, Bucky’s elbow slipped and he fell off of Steve’s shoulder and down to eye-level. He took the spot his chest had just been in–right in Steve’s face. They both froze. Steve’s hands gripped his hips tightly and he gripped the hair at the back of Steve’s head for purchase, trying not to fall farther into the water. They were nose to nose, ragged breaths sharing the space between them. Steve was staring into Bucky’s eyes.

Bucky had been here before. He remembered how the vivid blue of Steve’s eyes transformed into a blue-grey when you got this close. He remembered the way Steve’s warm breath felt against his lips. Steve’s skin was soft where his hand wrapped around his neck and shoulder. He smelled like sweat and chlorine and _ god _it shouldn’t smell so good. His eyes had gone dark and his fingers moved almost imperceptibly against Bucky’s hip. Steve’s head tilted slightly, ever so slightly, and he leaned in even closer. Bucky could only stare back, shocked.

Suddenly, a clap of thunder echoed through the sky and shocked them both apart. It crashed through Bucky’s chest and he jumped, but Steve held him in his arms. They stared at each other, mouths open, hearts pounding until Bucky let out a breath.

“Guess we should go,” he said quietly.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, but he didn’t move. He had his arms wound around Bucky and their faces were farther apart but still only a few inches and Bucky didn’t know what to do with himself.

“We’re gonna get electrocuted,” Bucky said slowly.

That seemed to finally do the trick as Steve blinked and said, “Right.” He cleared his throat and let go of Bucky, stepping back in the water. Bucky tried to regulate his breathing as they swam to the side and hopped out. They grabbed some towels from the locker room and dried off silently. Bucky’s mind was reeling.

_ What just happened? _

He couldn’t even think straight. He felt drunk. The fog was back in his head and his limbs were shaky and weak. _ Did Steve just try to kiss me? _ Steve wouldn’t do that. He didn’t like Bucky that way. If he did, surely he would’ve said something. After all this time, after everything they’d been through, _ surely _ Steve would’ve said something. _ Right? _

Bucky was so caught up overanalyzing that he didn’t hear Steve’s soft, “Hey.”

“Huh?”

Steve looked at him. Gently but earnestly. “I’m sorry for what I said. You’re right; I was scared. But I just wanted you to understand _ so badly.” _

“I know Steve. I should have.”

“No,” Steve said firmly. “I should have been honest.” He shook his head. “I should’ve told you I didn’t want you to go to New York, I should have told you about Scott, I should’ve called you the day you left and every day since then. I’m so sorry Bucky.”

He looked so desperate for Bucky to understand, to believe him, to forgive him. But he didn’t need to beg. Bucky couldn’t deny Steve Rogers a thing.

He walked up to Steve and slowly lifted his hands to wrap around his shoulders. He rested his face against Steve’s neck and it was warm and soft and absolutely _ made _for the shape of him. Steve’s arms wound around his waist and he shivered at the drag of wet fingertips. Steve just gripped him tighter. Steve breathed in deep and dropped his head onto Bucky’s shoulder. They stayed there longer than they should have–holding each other and breathing each other in. In that moment, he realized that Steve’s arms were designed to hold him and he fit with an ease he had never felt in his life.

The comfort nestled its way inside him. It snuck in through the cracks of his heart and opened it wide, so that all the world could see–or at least just Steve–every bit and piece inside of him. It warmed him until it was too much. Until all he could think of was the ways in which Steve had been honest with him and the things he was still trying to hide. He felt them growing, shifting, bubbling to the surface. He didn’t want to say it but he could tell he had lost all control over his own voice. It was like he was watching himself from outside his body. He felt the words push against his throat, demanding to be heard.

“Steve”

“Hmm” Steve hummed quietly in response.

“Would it be okay?”

Steve didn’t lift his head from Bucky’s shoulder. His arms did not unwind. “Would what be okay?”

Bucky could do no more than limit the words to a soft whisper. “If I...liked...guys too?”

Steve froze for a moment, the briefest of seconds, and then tightened his grip around Bucky’s waist, slowly, almost imperceptibly. “Yeah, Buck.” His voice was deep and came out scratchy and quiet. He cleared his throat. “Yeah of course it would.” He shifted his body to fit closer against Bucky as if he were trying to mold the two of them together with glue. “Of course it would.”

Bucky was shivering slightly, but he wasn’t cold. It started deep in his chest and emanated slowly out to the rest of his body. His fingers and toes felt cold and empty–almost numb. A wave of something–emotion, relief, warmth–hit him so hard and so suddenly that he felt lightheaded. He would have wavered if not for Steve’s strong grip. Tears collected at the edge of his vision and he didn’t let go.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains explicit scenes and one homophobic slur is used. Message me if you have any questions or concerns!

** _May 28_****_th_ ** ** _, 2014_ **

“Come on, Buck, it'll be fun.”

“No part of this will be fun for me.”

“God, you're dramatic.”

Steve was sprawled out on Bucky’s bed, his head hanging upside down over the side while Bucky stood behind him folding clothes.

“Graduation will be over at 12, we’ll go out to eat with your family and my mom and then we have the rest of the day to ourselves! Come on, what else are we gonna do?” Steve was practically begging and he wasn’t even ashamed.

“Literally anything else,” Bucky said in a deadpan voice.

Steve and Bucky had been lazing around the house all afternoon. They had biked to Bucky’s house after school like usual. Bucky had helped Becca with her geometry homework while Steve finished his English essay. Now Bucky was finishing his chores at the request of his mother while Steve laid around coming up with grand schemes.

“Why do you hate these parties so much?”

Bucky sighed and aggressively folded a t-shirt while he explained, “Because Steve! It’s a tiny house jam-packed with dumb teenagers and I have no idea what to say to anyone and you always ditch me!”

Steve sat up and gaped at Bucky, “I never ditch you!”

“Yeah you do! You’re really good at it actually,” Bucky said sarcastically, perhaps a bit too harsh. Steve thought for a moment he was going to bring up college again but he saw Bucky sigh and relax his face, which meant Steve was safe for now.

“Alright fine, I won’t ditch you. I promise. Will you please go? I don’t want to go with just Sam and his new girlfriend. I hate being the third wheel.” He flashed Bucky his extra sweet puppy dog eyes and his crooked little grin that he knew got him whatever he wanted.

Bucky rolled his eyes and said, “Fine but I’m getting drunk.”

Steve mock saluted him with a serious face, “I would never deny you your god-given right to get shit faced.”

________

The music blared loudly as Steve stepped through the threshold of the party. He could feel the bass vibrating deep in his chest. The heady smell of sweat, smoke, and alcohol encircled him and filled his lungs. Steve squeezed through the throngs of people, dragging Bucky behind him. He wore simple black jeans with a plain white t-shirt. He looked at Bucky who had chosen ripped skinny jeans and a short sleeved, navy blue button down dotted with small, white flowers and started to rethink his outfit.

They made their way through the crowds, met up with Sam, got some drinks, and that was all it took.

An hour later Bucky was perched on the side of the beer pong table, obnoxiously cheering Steve on.

“Let’s go Stevie!”

Some kind of colorful margarita sloshed around in his cup, threatening to spill over as he pumped his arms in support. The ping pong ball sank into the cup with grace and Bucky stood, his arms shooting up in celebration. They cheered Sam on as he reluctantly drank another cup of beer, laughing hysterically the entire time.

Steve could feel the alcohol making its way through his system, fogging up his head and easing his anxiety. The music transformed into a familiar melody and he saw Bucky’s face flash in recognition before he was singing, in a horribly off-key, high pitched voice, staring straight at Steve.

“Some things you just can’t refuse” Bucky sang loudly.

Steve joined in, leaning in close for the next part, dragging it out drunkenly. “She wanna ride me like a cruise… And I’m not tryna looooooose”

They fell into each other, laughing uncontrollably.

“Hey, are we still playing or what?” Sam called from across the room, his arm slung easily around his girlfriend’s neck.

Steve looked up quickly. “Yeah, sure.” He grabbed a ball, straightened up, and sunk it into the last remaining cup effortlessly. Bucky lost his mind.

Later, they stumbled down the hallway in search of some air and maybe some more drinks. They had been quickly kicked out of the dining room after their outrageous celebrating.

“Here,” Bucky said, handing Steve a fresh beer from the fridge. “Let’s go get some air. I’m gonna die of heat exhaustion in here.”

Steve chuckled and followed Bucky out the back door. The cool night air hit him instantly, washing over him like a cold drink on a hot day. The smell of sweat and spilled beer disappeared, replaced with the sweet smell of summer air. Steve breathed in deep.

Mercifully there was no one else outside. Steve looked around the yard. It was rather large with a grill to their left and a badminton net in the back. Outdoor string lights swung from either side of the fence, creating a peaceful glow around them. Around the corner to the right of the doors was a small patio area. Steve would have liked to spend some time here with Bucky, maybe when they weren’t drunk.

Bucky started to laugh, seemingly out of nowhere. “Man did you see Sam’s face?” Bucky tried to recreate Sam’s look of frustration and disbelief and the two started cracking up all over again. “That’s what he gets for saying he didn’t want me on his team.” Bucky added petulantly.

Steve chuckled, “That’s just because you suck at anything requiring hand-eye coordination.”

Bucky couldn’t argue with that. He shrugged, unbothered then said smugly, “Yeah, well, obviously I’m still a great teammate. You couldn’t have done that without me.”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh at Bucky’s arms crossed over his chest, his chin turned up in defiance. He smiled. “Yeah that’s true, Buck, I need you. You’re my sunflower.” He sang the last line from their earlier performance, off-key and sugary sweet.

Bucky giggled and smiled up at Steve. He was leaning back against the brick wall of the house, one leg propped up behind him. His lips were bright red from the tequila. “Alright Stevie, I’ll be your sunflower.”

Steve grinned and walked over to Bucky, leaning his arm against the wall. “Sam will probably want a rematch later.”

Bucky was quiet now, looking up at Steve with something on his mind. “Hmm. Well he can try but I don’t have much hope for him,” he said.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Steve asked. He wondered if Bucky’s eyes had always been so deeply blue. Different shades blending and mixing together like waves in a storm.

“Because he’s going up against the best team in Indiana. Probably in all of America.”.

“You got that right,” Steve said, chuckling. “He’ll probably try to split us up, put us on different teams.”

“Yeah, well, everybody wants to break up a good thing.” A small smirk made its way across Bucky’s face. Steve watched in fascination. “We’re just too powerful for them.”

“Yeah but here’s the thing,” Steve said quietly, leaning in close to Bucky’s ear, “I don’t know how well you’ll do without me.” His face scrunched up in playful condescension.

Bucky looked up in surprise, his grin returning. “Oh that’s how it is Rogers? Just like that and you’re against me. Wow, I thought we were friends.”

Steve chuckled easily, leaning further into the wall. “I’ve just gotta be realistic here, Buck. You said it yourself–you were great at supporting me. Not so much at throwing the ball into the cup.”

“I think you should be a lot more worried than you are, Stevie.”

Steve tilted his head, smiling, “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

Bucky’s eyes darted down to Steve’s mouth. “Because you haven’t seen what I can do yet.”

“I don’t know about that Buck. I think I know everything about you,” Steve said with a chuckle.

Bucky’s face looked oddly serious all of a sudden. “Not everything.”

Steve paused and his smirk returned. “Well, you better get ready then. I’m not holding back on you.”

Bucky locked eyes with Steve before saying, “Oh, don’t you worry about me Stevie. I can handle myself.” Steve couldn’t translate the look on his face but it made his stomach catch fire. He couldn’t look away from Bucky’s bright red lips; his smirk shiny and wet. His face glowed, the string lights reflecting in the abyss of his blue eyes.

Steve coughed and looked down. The top two buttons of Bucky’s shirt were open, exposing a large swath of smooth skin. For once, Bucky wasn’t fidgeting. Steve reached out and touched his chest, grabbing a piece of lint and flicking it away. He said quietly, “you had something there.”

Bucky said nothing. He was staring intently at Steve and the look made something move inside Steve. They were close, closer than they had ever been. Steve could feel Bucky’s breath–soft, warm puffs fanning over his face. He could smell tequila and Bucky’s cologne.

Bucky reached out slowly and touched his hand delicately to Steve’s stomach. His fingers traced lightly over Steve’s muscles, grabbing onto his shirt. Steve looked down at Bucky’s hand, wordless. His heart was pounding. When he looked up, Bucky was staring at him, closer than before. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Bucky leaned in. Steve stared in disbelief as Bucky’s face got closer to his. Their lips brushed delicately, the faintest of kisses, and Steve snapped back to reality.

He flinched and backed away. _ What were they doing? _

“Buck I–” he stuttered and stopped.

Bucky stared at him, raw panic filling his eyes.

“Sorry” was all he could manage, in a harsh whisper. He started to turn away.

Steve jumped to attention. “No Buck it’s not–you’re drunk. I don’t think you know what you’re doing.”

Bucky nodded, a pained smile making its way across his face. “Yeah, no you’re right.” He laughed a little ridiculously. “I have no idea what’s going on right now. I don’t even know how many of these I’ve had at this point,” he said, motioning toward his drink.

Steve nodded. He had no idea what to say. Bucky’s face was as red as his lips.

“Um,” Bucky started. His mouth opened and closed, struggling to find the words. “I’m gonna–” he said and pointed towards the door, turning away from Steve.

“No–Bucky wait–it’s fine. You don’t have to. It’s not a big deal” he tried desperately to salvage the situation.

Bucky shook his head, “Yeah no, it’s fine Steve. There’s no deal, promise. I’m just gonna go get some water. Think I need to sober up,” he said chuckling. “Why don’t you finish your drink and I’ll meet you inside?”

Steve stared at him, quiet. “Yeah, okay.”

Bucky turned and walked towards the doors as quickly as he could manage. Steve wanted to chase after him.

_ What the hell just happened? _

Steve turned around and rubbed his hand through his hair roughly. His mind was reeling. _ Did Bucky just try to kiss him? _No, he was just drunk. He had no idea what he was doing.

But it was pretty clear that he did.

He paced incessantly, going to the edge of the yard and walking along the fence. Why would Bucky try to kiss him? They had never done anything like that before, not even close. Why would Bucky even _ want _to kiss him? Did that mean Bucky was gay? No, if Bucky was gay he would’ve told Steve. Wouldn’t he?

God, Steve was so confused. How could he have missed all this? He thought they were just talking about beer pong. He racked his brain for more details of their conversation but he came up empty handed. He tried to remember the look in Bucky’s eyes right before he kissed him and, _ yeah, _ he guessed he could’ve figured it out. He could’ve read the signals. Maybe if he wasn’t so drunk. He started to wonder if he had given signals as well. _ Maybe I was leaning a little close, _ he admitted. But he just liked to be close to Bucky, that was all. He liked to be able to look Bucky in the eyes while they talked. He _ loved _ to smell Bucky’s cologne.

_ Okay, _ he thought, _ so maybe that’s something. _

It had honest-to-god never occurred to Steve that the way he felt about Bucky may have occasionally slipped past the bonds of friendship. 

But he wasn’t _ interested _ in Bucky was he? How could he be when he wasn’t interested in guys? He had only ever had crushes on girls. He had even dated a few girls, though nothing serious. How could he be interested in guys when he dated girls? Logically, he knew people could be attracted to both genders but he had just never felt any attraction toward any guys. He had noticed guys, sure, noticed if they were attractive or not. He was jealous of the way some guys looked because he wanted to look like them but that was– _ oh. _

Maybe that was something.

Maybe that’s why he wanted so desperately to kiss Bucky back.

Because of course he did. It was Bucky. _ Bucky. _ His best friend. The person who understood him most in the world. The one who he never stopped laughing with. The boy with the unbelievably soft curls, the deep blue eyes, the velvety smooth voice. _ God, _he was such an idiot. Of course he wanted to kiss Bucky.

He had to fix this. He turned around and darted back to the door, rushing past a group of smokers laughing outside. He entered the loud, stiflingly hot building and looked around. He cut through the crowds of people looking desperately for one adorable brunet in a flowery shirt. He found Sam and shouted over the music, “Hey! Have you seen Bucky?”

“What do you mean? He said you guys were leaving?”

Steve’s heart dropped. He shoved his way past the drunken graduates, making his way agonizingly slowly to the door. He finally made it outside and stood in the front yard helplessly looking in every direction. He started running down the street towards Bucky’s house. He didn’t live close but they didn’t drive and Steve couldn’t imagine Bucky calling his parents for a ride.

Sure enough, Steve soon caught up to Bucky, who was walking briskly down the sidewalk. He didn't turn around when Steve called his name and Steve innocently thought maybe he had headphones in his ears.

“Bucky,” He was finally close enough to put his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, who instantly twisted to roughly rip his arm out of Steve’s grip.

“Leave me alone Steve,” He said, irritation dripping from his voice.

“Buck just wait up! Let's talk about this!”

Bucky turned sharply and looked at Steve as if he were an idiot. “There's nothing to talk about Steve.”

Steve was starting to get frustrated. He wasn't sure why Bucky was so pissed at him. He knew it had been awkward but not enough to warrant this response. “Just fucking stop!”

“Steve, Jesus, just drop it! There's nothing for you to say. Let's just go home.”

His voice sounded tired by the last word. His shoulders were slumped. Steve almost gave up and dropped it, but god knows Sarah Rogers didn't raise a quitter. “Bucky I'm sorry about what happened. I just didn't expect it, that's all. To be honest, I've never thought of you in that way but–”

Steve was about to say he never thought to ask himself if he felt that way about Bucky but Bucky cut in, whipping around harshly. “Steve I seriously don't know what you're talking about. Nothing happened. I was drunk, you were drunk. I've never thought about you in _ any _way.”

Steve physically couldn't stop himself, “Bucky something obviously happened. It's fine! I just want to–”

“Steve we were literally just talking and then I went inside for another drink. That's it!”

“Then why did you leave?” Steve challenged.

Bucky stopped short on the sidewalk and finally turned to face him. His cheeks were flushed and he was breathing heavily. He ground his teeth. “Because I'm tired of stupid fucking parties like this with stupid fucking people like you.” Bucky bit back, the venom clear in his voice. 

Steve gave him an incredulous look, “Like me? What the hell?”

Bucky squared his shoulders, set his face in a hard line, and let it all go. “Yeah like you. People who are so fucking full of themselves because they can get a scholarship to some fancy college. And you may be, ya know, _ that way, _but I'm definitely not okay? Maybe you're just projecting. I didn't do anything to you.”

Steve’s stomach dropped and his body felt numb. “What way, Buck?”

Bucky rolled his eyes and turned around to keep walking. “You know.”

Steve stayed where he was, calling out to Bucky sarcastically, “No I really don't. Please enlighten me!”

“Shut the fuck up, Steve” Bucky called spitefully over his shoulder.

Steve threw his arms wide and called after his best friend, “See? You can't even say it! Stick up for yourself Bucky! Be honest!” Steve pointedly ignored the part of his brain saying that that was a little ironic coming from him.

Bucky eyebrows shot up and he looked at Steve as if to say, _ really?! _“Easy for you to say! These people worship the ground you walk on. They would eat your shit if you asked them to.”

Steve wasn't moved. “People like us the same.”

Bucky laughed, humorlessly. “That's funny, Cap.”

Steve bristled at the nickname. He didn't like it when Bucky used it jokingly and he definitely didn't like it now. He didn't hold back. “Is that it, Bucky? Are you jealous of me?”

Bucky stopped dead in his tracks. He shot out another laugh, devoid of any humor. He turned to face Steve, let the rage build up inside him, and said with everything in him, “Fuck you, Steve.” The cruelty in his tone matched the ferocity in his eyes and for the first time Steve was speechless.

Bucky turned to walk away again and this time Steve let him go.

** _July 3_****_rd_ ** ** _, 2018_ **

**Steve Rogers: **turn around

Steve watched as Bucky glanced up from his phone and turned around, looking at each face on the crowded pool deck. He stifled a laugh as he snuck up behind him. Bucky was standing at the edge of the lawn. He was supposed to be yelling at kids for running and preventing fights between parents over lawn chairs but, from what Steve could tell from a few minutes of watching him, he was mostly glancing between his phone and the entrance gates over and over. Bucky let out a huff of frustration and Steve delicately tapped him on one shoulder. When Bucky turned, he found himself face to face with Steve, grinning maniacally.

Bucky jumped at the sudden sight of him. “God I hate you!”

“Hello to you too,” Steve laughed. Bucky rolled his eyes and made as if he were going to assume his position as dutiful guard, that is, until Steve held up the reason for his surprise visit. Bucky’s eyes lit up at the ice pops and he reached out to grab one.

“Ok fine, maybe I don’t hate you that much,” he mumbled through his teeth as he tried to rip the plastic off the top.

Steve chuckled and bit the end off of his. Grape for Bucky; cherry for Steve. Then, halfway through when they both got tired of their flavors, they would switch. They came up with the ingenious plan in fourth grade and it hadn’t failed them since. They both took a bite of sugary sweet ice and grinned at each other through cold lips.

Steve noticed a drop of purple liquid trickle down the corner of Bucky’s mouth and he reached up to gently wipe it away, making sure to avoid Bucky’s lips directly. Bucky stared at him but didn’t move. “Thanks.”

Steve smiled. “No problem.”

It had been a week since their fight-slash-heart-to-heart and Steve had never felt more at ease with his best friend. He knew they still had some issues to work through but Bucky _ didn’t hate him _ . Bucky _ trusted _him.

Steve was both genuinely shocked and overwhelmingly relieved when Bucky came out to him. He hadn’t expected Bucky to tell him in that moment but they felt so close, so viscerally connected that he understood why he had done it. Steve would’ve bared his soul and every single one of his secrets that day if Bucky had asked.

Since then, they continued to talk regularly but no subject was off limits. They talked about some of the harder moments from the past three years–moments where they had missed the other person so bad they felt like they couldn’t breathe. They talked almost every night and texted all day–even when they shouldn’t. Even when Steve received several lectures from his mom after he texted throughout the entirety of their dinner.

As they were drinking the last of the juice at the bottom of their popsicles, the whistles blew for a break. They looked around, somewhat guiltily, knowing they should’ve been watching the kids and not each other, but just traded matching smiles stained red and purple and headed towards the breakroom.

Coach Fury had shown up that day for a quick staff meeting. The next day was their annual Fourth of July party and the pool was set to be packed. They had music and activities all day, brought in local vendors to serve better-than-usual food, and set off fireworks at the end of the night. As far as Greenbriar Indiana went, it was the place to be. Such an event, of course, required extensive staff meetings to prepare.

Luckily Steve and Bucky made it to the room before most of the other guards and stole one side of the coveted couch. Steve sat on the end, leaning against the arm, while Bucky turned his entire body to lean against Steve. He laid his head back on Steve’s chest and Steve’s arm wrapped around his knees that were pulled tightly to his chest. Natasha came in and shoved Bucky even farther into Steve’s lap to make room for Maria. Bucky stuck his tongue out at Natasha and Maria just shook her head with a knowing smile. Steve couldn’t help but laugh.

He knew what they all thought. He and Bucky had become a lot closer in the past few days. Closer physically, especially. Bucky wasn’t a tactile kind of person. He let very few people touch him and didn’t even like hugs. Steve had always been an exception to this rule but that obviously changed after their friendship was put on hold for three years. Steve was ecstatic to have this aspect of their relationship back after such a long time. He loved sitting close, leaning against Bucky, stroking his back--but he knew how it looked.

He knew that all their friends assumed they had evolved into something more. Steve knew, however unfortunately, that that wasn’t true. He had ruined his chance for that particular relationship with Bucky a long time ago, and he had done nothing to win it back. Even if Bucky did still have any interest in Steve, he wouldn’t be able to trust him. Not after the way Steve has turned him away. He would just have to keep things simple between them.

He was already failing at that. Steve berated himself over and over for that day in the pool last week. He knew Bucky wasn’t interested but Steve kept pushing. He could admit to himself that he wanted to kiss Bucky that day and he thought Bucky might want to too. But the clap of thunder snapped him out of his fantasy. Bucky didn't want him and he had to respect that. Steve knew that he went too far but those soft eyes, more green than blue, those full red lips--candy apple red--pulled him in like gravity itself and it took every ounce of self control to pull away. He convinced himself that he could be close to Bucky--both physically and emotionally--and still maintain their friendship without taking things too far, but _ god _it was hard.

Steve stroked the soft hair of Bucky’s knee and attempted to listen to Fury drone on about customer service and crowd control. He leaned down, as nonchalantly as he could, and took a deep breath with his nose in Bucky’s hair. It was pulled back in a half bun today, wrapped delicately in a spiral with small curls falling down the sides. He loved the smell. It was a heady combination of flowery shampoo, chlorine, and sunscreen and Steve lived for it. He glanced around to make sure no one had seen him and tried to focus his attention back onto Nick. He failed.

Later, after closing, they were spread throughout the pool, clustered in small groups decorating for the party the next day. Steve and Sam were struggling to untangle a strand of red white and blue pennant flags, while Bucky helped Maria blow up balloons. Steve didn’t mean to but he was having a tough time tearing his eyes away from Bucky. With each new balloon, his face grew more red and his cheeks puffed out adorably. His face scrunched up in concentration as he tried to tie the end and Steve couldn’t help but laugh.

Suddenly, a dark hand obstructed his view as it waved in front of his face. He turned to see Sam staring at him blankly while shaking his head. “Are you going to help? Or just stare at Barnes like you do everyday?”

“I’m helping!” Steve insisted. “I’m untangling! It just takes a while. And I don’t stare at him everyday.”

Sam nodded reassuringly. “Sure. Just like you’re not on the phone with him every night until dawn.”

“Shut up, Sam.”

“Dude, I don’t know why you don’t just make a move already. It’s pretty obvious you’re interested.”

“Obviously I’m interested, Sam.” Steve whisper-yelled, face covertly turned toward Sam. The next part came out even quieter. “He’s not interested in me.”

“How in the world do you figure that?”

“Just trust me. He’s made it very clear.”

Sam looked at him with a mixture of confusion, disbelief, and exhaustion. “Well he hasn’t made that clear to the rest of us. In fact we’re all pretty convinced he’s _ very much _interested.”

Steve blushed and then scrunched up his face in disgust. “Why do you guys talk about us so much? It’s weird.”

Sam stared at him with an exasperated look. “Because it's so easy to ignore you between your late night talks and looks of longing across the pool,” he said sarcastically. “I swear we’re living in a Jane Austen novel.”

“We don’t look at each other _ longingly. _” Steve said, and then quietly again, “besides, what would happen at the end of summer? We have to go back to Chicago. He’s going to New York.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“Well, I can’t help you with that. But I still think you should go for it. What’s the worst that could happen? You said it. We’re leaving at the end of the summer anyway.”

Steve’s mind reeled with all the possibilities of _ what’s the worst that could happen. _ He didn’t think Sam had thought through these scenarios yet because according to Steve’s brain, they could get pretty bad. But, before he could stop it, his mind turned in the opposite direction. _ What if it went well? _The best case scenarios started playing in his head and he didn’t stop thinking about them for the rest of the day.

__________

The day started out well.

It was warm and sunny without being sweltering, the food was surprisingly good, and the pool was predictably packed, but there were so many things to keep people busy that it never felt overwhelming.

Steve and Bucky ran the carnival games together and they shared small smiles and secret laughs across the games all day. Bucky was wearing a white t-shirt that accentuated his biceps and red swim shorts that were shorter than usual and Steve thought it was ridiculously unfair to ask him to focus on carnival games when this was standing in front of him. Bucky only made it harder when his hand lingered on Steve’s anytime he handed over prizes so Steve made sure to place his hand on the small of Bucky’s back as they waited for the next contestant to play. He stood close enough to feel the heat of Bucky’s body and he could feel the way Bucky held his breath at the touch of Steve’s hand.

Steve’s stomach flipped when he thought about the way Bucky’s face lit up when he gave him the teddy bear he’d won at the ring toss. His eyes were bright and his smile was sweet. He made sure to give him three more prizes before the day was done.

Clint had volunteered to be the victim of the dunk tank and was, unsurprisingly, doing a great job. Sam was refereeing a volleyball game in the pool while Natasha manned the front entrance and took care of the music. She had remained patriotic in her own personal, rebellious way and was currently playing Janelle Monae’s _ Americans _. Maria was, as usual, making sure everything went off without a hitch.

A few kids had started a water balloon fight and their screams echoed across the lawn. Parents lounged in lawn chairs while the teenagers took the game of volleyball a little too seriously. Steve and Bucky sucked on Bomb Pops as the sun beat down on the back of their necks.

But as day turned to night and the sun began to set, things changed.

Steve noticed a difference in Bucky as the day wore on. As more people showed up, Bucky seemed to get increasingly anxious. Steve knew he had never liked crowds that much but he didn’t realize it would make this much of a difference. Any time Steve would go to stand next to Bucky or put his arm around him, he would shift away, ever so slightly. At one point he grabbed onto Bucky’s bicep while he laughed at something Sam had said and Bucky took a full step back, out of Steve’s grasp.

Steve was surprised, to say the least, but he told himself that Bucky was just setting boundaries and that it was good for both of them. Especially if they were going to keep things friendly between them.

Until the fireworks. The whole team had been busy cleaning up and setting up chairs for people to watch the show. By the end, they were hot, sweaty, and tired as they stood at the edge of the pool and waited for the show to start. They were mostly off duty at this point as the games were put away and the pool was closed. They stuck around mostly for crowd control and to watch the fireworks themselves.

Bucky was fidgeting, and he had a pinched expression on his face. He hadn't said anything in awhile but then, none of them had as they were all pretty exhausted by this point. Steve watched him glance around a couple times, looking intently at the faces in the crowd. Worried something had happened, Steve walked up and stood behind Bucky’s shoulder. “Hey.”

Bucky flinched ever so slightly and glanced up at Steve. “Hey.”

“You okay?”

“Mhmm.”

Steve nodded and shoved his hands in the small pockets of his shorts. He squeezed his lips together, trying to force himself to stay quiet. Sometimes he felt like he only made things worse when Bucky was upset. But he just wanted to check, is all. “You sure?”

“Yep,” Bucky said tersely. He hadn't turned towards Steve since he walked up and he stared ahead resolutely.

“I was just–”

_ BOOM. _

They both jumped as the first firework exploded above their heads, creating a glow of red light on Bucky’s face and crackling away into the dark sky. Two more followed, whistling as they rose and reverberating through Steve’s chest.

“You've just been really quiet, I just wanted to–”

“_ Steve.” _Bucky looked at him sternly. His stern face contrasted strangely against the faces of wonder and exhilaration in the crowd around them. “I'm fine.”

“Alright,” Steve said placatingly.

But Bucky was only making Steve worry more. He was chewing on his lip anxiously and wringing his hands. His breathing had picked up and he jumped at the crack of every firework. He kept glancing around them and Steve couldn't figure out what he was looking for.

“Hey–” Steve reaches up at put his hand on Bucky's shoulder. He meant it to be comforting. He meant to calm Bucky’s worry with his touch, let him know that he was there for him, always. But Bucky turned to glare at him and Steve’s stomach dropped.

“Steve!” Bucky’s breath hitched. “_ Stop.” _He tipped his shoulder out from under Steve’s hand and turned away sharply, making his way through the crowd as quickly as he could.

Steve followed him, pushing and shoving his way through the waves of people in the densely packed crowd. “Bucky!” Steve called out but Bucky didn't even slow down.

Finally they broke free from the crowd and Bucky strode quickly towards the front gate. “Where are you going?” Steve had to scream over the sound of the fireworks and he knew he sounded a little crazy.

Bucky turned, finally, and leveled Steve with a glare. His eyes were red and Steve could see they were filling with tears. He spoke low and sharp, “Just leave me alone.”

He turned and walked away and Steve could only watch, helpless, as his best friend walked away from him again.

_________

** _May 28_****_th_ ** ** _, 2014_ **

Bucky was a lightweight. He could admit that. After only a couple drinks his body and mind loosened up and he often did things he wouldn’t normally do sober. Sam had a video of Bucky singing “Summer Nights” from Grease in front of all their friends and no matter how many times he deleted it from Sam’s phone it always reappeared.

Sometimes there would be whole sections of the night he didn’t remember. Like the time Steve _ swore _Bucky had an hour long conversation with Sam about how he wanted to be reincarnated as a bumblebee.

Steve had cackled as he recreated the conversation the next morning._ You said ‘They’re just so… soft Sam. They’re so good. Just there.. doing their little jobs, working hard.’ I swear you were tearing up. _

Bucky had no recollection of that but it didn’t seem an entirely unlikely thing for him to say.

All this to say, Bucky was used to memories blurring in his mind. He was used to his inhibitions disappearing and a different side of him taking over.

He was so used to this that he knew that that was not what happened the night of the graduation party.

He had quite a few drinks that night, yes, but he remembered every detail.

He remembered the deep thrumming of the music, each beat vibrating him to his core. He remembered the pulse of bodies surrounding him; the unnatural ebb and flow of shoves and side-steps and hey-come-dance’s. The way sweat clung to his forehead and nervousness clung to his chest. The way the alcohol moved through his system like molasses, warming the pit of his stomach and creating a fog in his mind.

He remembered the look of concentration on Steve’s face as he lined up the ping pong ball for a perfect shot, his tongue sticking out like always. He remembered the way Steve casually threw his arms around Bucky’s waist as they watched Sam miss yet another shot. The way Steve stared at Bucky for just a split second too long; the way he turned his entire body to face Bucky’s as he casually leaned into Bucky’s space. The way he thought none of this was very casual at all.

He remembered following Steve outside, lost in a daze of watching, longing, wanting, _ always wanting _. He remembered the way Steve’s white t-shirt clung helplessly to his biceps. The way Steve licked his lips before saying anything. The way his eyes kept flickering between Bucky’s gaze and his mouth twisted in the most earnest grin you’ve ever seen. He remembered the heady, musky smell of Steve’s cologne that stuck to his clothes for days and the smell of beer from Steve’s mouth that he so desperately wanted to taste. The freckles spreading from his perfect face down, down, down. He remembered wanting to lick them off.

He remembered Steve’s words, flirting like you wouldn’t believe; the small grins, the _ oh yeah?’ _s that lit Bucky’s body on fire. He remembered the soft touch of Steve’s fingers to Bucky’s skin, the way it lit him up with sparks. The way his mind constricted into a tunnel and all he could see were Steve’s soft lips, and all he could hear was Steve’s deep voice, and all he could feel was Steve’s breath on his face and Steve’s body beneath his hand. The heat and the thickness in the air. The fire they created between them.

The leaning ever closer, _ always so close _. So close Bucky could just–

He remembered panic like he’d never felt before. He remembered the covering up, the brushing off, the _ no it’s fine. _ The sincerest _ sorry _he’s ever given.

He remembered walking away, wanting to run, wanting to peel his own skin off. He remembered the sanctuary the patio door offered, bright and warm and welcoming, filling up his tunnel vision. Laughter filling his ears instead.

He remembered the group of guys standing just outside the door. The glances, the whispers, the can’t-even-hold-it-in laughter. He remembered Brock Rumlow and Jasper Sitwell plain as day. The _Holy shit Barnes is a fag?_ _Man we should’ve seen that one coming. _The joint smoking and beer drinking. The insult-flinging, spirit-taking, heart-bruising boys and their jokes. The _Did you see him try to make a move on Cap? God that’s sad. His little buddy is in love with him! _The cracking up. The disgust. The moment the Earth stopped spinning.

Bucky remembered running, panic, the hot tears stinging his eyes. He remembered Steve and his pity and his never ending _ niceness _ and _ it’s ok’ _ s, even after what Bucky did to him. But Bucky also remembered the condescension and the frustration and the always-demanding-something attitude. He remembered humiliation and anger and pain. He remembered lashing out. He remembered _ Is that it? Are you jealous of me? _ With that stupid little smirk. More than anything he remembered _ Fuck you, Steve. _

That’s why, as Bucky sat motionless in his bed the morning after the party, he knew it wasn’t exaggerated in his head. He couldn’t even blame it on having too much to drink. Maybe the tequila had given him the courage, but Bucky could admit that he had been wanting to try that for a long time.

He stayed like that for a few weeks: lifeless, empty, going over every last detail, every last mistake. He felt angry and hurt but he mostly felt humiliated and ashamed. He knew people in his small town wouldn’t be particularly happy about him being gay but he never expected it to go so spectacularly horrible. He never expected Steve to be so cruel.

For weeks he ignored calls from Sam and pleas from his mother to get out of bed. He had nothing to say to anyone. There was nothing he could do or say to make this situation better. This town knew who he was now and they made sure he was ashamed. He was a terrible word that people whispered behind backs and choked out between laughter. He was also in love with his best friend who didn’t love him back. There was no way to salvage that, no way to come back. They couldn’t fall easily into their old rhythm because it didn’t exist anymore.

In the deep parts of his chest, the places he didn’t talk about, he didn’t regret the kiss. He remembered the softness of Steve’s lips, the electricity that shot between them. He wouldn’t admit it, but he hoped Steve would just call him. He half expected an apology and an admission of guilt for at least some of the things Steve had said. But he knew Steve would never be the first to break. It just wasn’t in his nature. It was all or nothing with that kid and this time, Bucky got nothing.

The longer he sat and stewed on this information the more cynical he became. If he couldn’t change these things there was no point in sticking around. He knew he couldn’t change people’s minds about this and frankly, there was no point in trying. He had been embarrassed enough.

After four full weeks of humiliation and self-pity with still no word from Steve, Bucky decided to pack up and move to NYU early. The school had offered him early housing and he had declined it originally to spend more time with Steve before they were separated. How ironic.

Bucky did falter once. He hesitated, considered one hope-filled thought that whispered _ maybe _ in his ear and told him to stay, to go talk to Steve.

He considered it but he ignored it. If Steve could ignore him so easily, he would have no problem doing the same.

_________

** ****_July 4_****_th_ ** ** _, 2018_**

_ BOOM. _

Bucky winced as another firework went off above his head.

_ Beer. Cigarettes. Cologne. _

A paralyzingly bright flash of light exploded in front of his eyes as the accompanying crack shocked his heart with a defibrillator.

_ Bright pink lips. Soft breath. A cool breeze. _

_ CRACK. _

_ Red solo cups. Laughing. Stinging tears. _

It was all coming back.

Bucky started stumbling towards the back gate, shaking off the hand that tried to pull him back.

“Buck, where are you going?” the disembodied voice screamed.

He wasn’t sure. He wanted to tell the voice he knew where he was going. But he didn’t know. He just knew he had to get out.

The farther away he got from the noise and the fireworks the harder he started breathing. Or maybe he could just hear the wheezing puffs of air, now that he was away from the noise.

His heart beat quickly, too quickly, making his already labored breath hitch in response. He decided to sit. Sitting was good.

The grass tickled his calves. A mosquito flew up and landed on his elbow where it was draped over his knee. He focused on his arm hair, glimmering orange in the glow of the street lights.

“Buck?” he heard the voice ask again.

His eyes stayed locked on his arm hair. The only safe place at the moment.

Eventually, his breathing slowed and his heart rate returned to normal. He watched the blades of grass blow in the summer winds. The sweat on his forehead began to dry with the cool breeze.

He lifted his head slightly, turned, and rested his cheek on his raised knee. His squinted eyes slightly, gazing at the form next to him. It was Steve, of course. It was always Steve. Bucky let his gaze linger over the boy next to him. His concern overshadowed his face but didn’t diminish it. Blue eyes, squinted in confusion. Soft, blonde, almost translucent eyelashes. Pouty red lips. Summer sun and sun tan personified. Blissfully silent for once.

“Steve?”

It was so quiet, a mumbled whisper at best. Steve looked up instantly.

“Yeah?”

Bucky stared at him for a long moment; an entire universe creating, expanding, exploding inside those bright blue eyes. His limbs were heavy and he felt deflated--devoid of energy and emotions. He didn't know if he could make it on his own.

“Will you walk me home?”

He watched Steve’s face fly through a myriad of different emotions, settling on careful fondness. 

“Sure, Buck”

They got up and started walking towards Bucky’s house. The streets were quiet despite the celebration. The fireworks began to disappear behind them. They walked slowly under the huge oak trees, the ones that had been there longer than they had and would be there long after. They could hear the cicadas’ never ending hum and the distant murmur of frogs in the woods behind the neighborhood. They walked down the middle of the street, reveling in their quiet, eerie surroundings. Neither one said a word.

“I’m sorry for running off back there,” Bucky said quietly. He couldn’t look the other boy in the face.

“It’s okay, Buck” Steve says reassuringly.

“No it’s not. I shouldn’t have shoved you off like that.”

“Bucky if you don’t want me to put my arms around you or get too close to you, I won’t. I’m sorry. You just have to tell me. The last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable.”

“No, Steve, that’s not– That’s not it. I definitely felt comfortable,” he said under his breath with a short laugh. Steve’s brows came together, confused at what he had heard.

“Steve, I– The reason–” Bucky stopped abruptly. He took a deep breath, clearly struggling. “I just freaked out because I saw Brock Rumlow come in the gate,” He mumbled. His eyes were downcast, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Steve was quiet for a moment and somehow looked more confused. “But why would you freak out about Brock Rumlow? I mean I know he wasn’t your favorite person but we haven’t seen him in years.”

They had stopped walking at that point. Bucky stared at his feet as he scraped the toe of his shoe on the asphalt. “Do you remember our graduation party? During our last summer?”

Steve gave him a look. “How could I forget?” he asked, dripping with sarcasm.

Bucky snorted. “Right. Well remember how I left you outside to finish your drink and I went inside to go to the bathroom?” Steve nodded, looking equally confused and concerned.

Bucky continued, “Well Brock and his friends were around the corner the entire time we were out there. I’m sure you heard them when I left. They were just,” Bucky paused and shook his head, a humorless laugh escaping, “cracking up laughing at me. At what happened with us.”

Bucky paused, looking down as he wrung his hands, still ashamed after all these years. Neither one acknowledged the first mention that something had, indeed, happened between them that night. He continued.

“Called me a fag. Laughed at me because you didn’t want me back.” Bucky laughed again but his face looked like it was in physical pain.

That was nothing compared to the rage covering Steve’s face.

“They did what?” He seethed.

“Steve–” Bucky started but was cut off.

“Why did you never tell me this, Bucky?” Steve demanded.

“Well…” Bucky shrugged his shoulders and looked down, “we didn’t exactly have a productive conversation that night”.

Steve deflated. Finally it hit him. “That’s why you were so mad when I caught up to you. Not because of what I did but because of what they said.”

Bucky couldn’t look up from his feet. “Yeah,” he said, his voice scratchy, barely above a whisper. “It was pretty humiliating.”

Steve wanted to scream. He might have even wanted to cry. He definitely wanted to punch Brock Rumlow in the face. They had wandered into a park now, nestled within the subdivision, surrounded by more colossal oak trees. Steve sat down on a bench and hung his head between his knees. More realizations wormed their way into his head slowly.

“That’s why you didn’t want me to hug you tonight,” he said, resigned.

“Yeah,” Bucky croaked out. He sat down next to Steve on the bench, their legs inches apart. “I know it’s stupid but I felt that same fear from that night. The way it felt walking through the house, just trying to get out. Like I could feel a hundred pairs of eyes on me at once. This weird, intense anxiety that the entire world was going to find out that I was in love with my best friend and then mock me for it.”

Bucky's heart started pounding in his chest. He stared at the ground, motionless. He could feel a warm sensation expanding from his chest and he felt paralyzed by it. He knew what he was saying but he couldn't stop himself. He didn't want to. He was tired of holding it all in. 

“But you know,” he added quickly, “I’m still really sorry for everything I said that night. I never should have said those things to you, no matter what Brock said to me.”

Steve looked up at that, “But it makes perfect sense, Buck. I would’ve been pissed out of my mind if someone had said that to me. Who knows what I would’ve said. Probably something a lot worse.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Bucky insisted. “It was still wrong. I said some pretty fucked up stuff that night.” He shook his head and wrung his hands, squeezing the life out of them. They were silent for a moment, inevitably remembering the cruelty in Bucky’s voice.

“And I should’ve called you over the summer. I never wanted to leave without saying goodbye. I regretted it the minute I left, if I’m honest.”

Steve shook his head, a smile making its way across his face. He turned his body to face Bucky. “It’s alright, Buck. We already went over all of that. It just makes a lot more sense now. Why my best friend ditched me,” he said with a laugh.

“Hey,” Bucky sat up quickly and faced Steve as well, a twin smile finding its way onto his face, “you ditched me first.”

Steve shook his head, exasperated at their worn out argument, “Yeah I guess I did.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Neither knew what to say. There was something there between them. Something physical, electric charged, hanging in the air, pulsing back and forth. Bucky felt it wrap around him, focus his vision into a tunnel, his only source of light Steve’s freckled cheeks and bright blue eyes. Steve couldn’t stop staring at Bucky’s lips, red from a Bomb Pop this time, instead of tequila.

“So,” Steve began. Bucky blinked. He didn’t think he would be able to follow a train of thought if it slammed into him but damn if he wouldn’t try. “Earlier,” Steve said quietly. He had to force himself to continue, to physically stop his voice from shaking. “When you said you didn’t want people to find out you were in love with your best friend?”

Bucky didn't hold his breath so much as stop fighting for oxygen all together. His face was frozen. “Yeah?” was his brilliant response, in an embarrassingly soft voice.

“When you say ‘were’...?”

Bucky huffed out a humorless laugh. His mouth opened, but nothing came out. He was going to try to play it cool, to pretend like he misspoke but… when has he ever been able to lie to Steve Rogers?

“‘Was’... ‘am’...” Bucky shrugged helplessly. “Always have been.”

The entire world stopped moving, everything on Earth taking a collective breath and holding it, as Bucky’s heart pounded in his chest.

“Are you saying you’re in love with me?”

Bucky’s mind could only come up with one answer:

“Yes.”

The truth.

Steve held his breath and leaned forward, impossibly slowly, his breath washing over Bucky’s face. His hand came up to cup Bucky’s cheek, every point of contact setting Bucky off like live wires. Bucky closed his eyes, and Steve kissed him. Steve’s lips were soft, impossibly soft. They moved slowly against his, wet and warm. Bucky wasn’t sure he’d ever actually kissed anyone because nothing had ever felt like this.

Steve cradled Bucky’s face as he kissed him–urgently but not with haste. He moved his hand up, stroking his fingers through Bucky’s soft curls. Bucky’s hand moved from his neck, down to his chest to grip onto his t-shirt. Bucky's head was spinning, his limbs were floating. He swiped his tongue over Steve's lower lip, felt the other boy open his mouth, and he drifted to another dimension.

Eventually they stopped to breathe but remained close together, their foreheads fused together, gasping for air, holding onto one another and the lingering connection.

“Wow,” Bucky started, “so…”

“I’m in love with you” Steve stated quickly. He said it quickly, like he couldn’t let Bucky live another moment without knowing the way he felt. “I was in love with you before I even knew it. I just didn’t have a word for it. I didn’t understand the way I was feeling. I thought that’s just how everyone felt about their best friend.” He gave a weak laugh.

“Oh,” was all Bucky could say.

It’s a fascinating thing, bearing your soul. You don’t exactly plan for it but one day you’re prying your chest open with a crowbar and saying, _ Here. It’s all yours. If you want it. _

“It’s always been you, Buck. It’s only ever been you.”

They leaned forward, meeting in another kiss and suddenly, Bucky is sixteen, sitting on the riverbank, listening to the prettiest giggle he’s ever heard. He’s twelve, laying in the grass beneath their oak tree, watching Steve’s tongue poke out in concentration as he draws. He’s seven, teaching Steve how to swim, nine, watching ice pops melt in the sun, fifteen, and _ don’t you ever stop growing, Stevie?, _ eight, and _ I’m gonna marry _ you _ dummy, _ seventeen, counting his freckles while he sleeps, and _ who could be that pretty when they sleep _? Of course it’s Stevie. It’s only ever been Stevie.

Bucky fisted Steve’s shirt and yanked him closer until they were flush against one another. Steve’s arm wound around his shoulder holding him as tightly as he could while his other hand gripped his waist. He held Bucky’s body like he was holding it together–delicately and securely. Bucky could only cling to Steve’s shoulders and kiss him harder.

Steve’s mouth tasted sweet and familiar and his beard scratched roughly against his face. Bucky cradled Steve’s jaw in his hand and ran his fingers through the hair. He thought suddenly of the feeling of this beard between his thighs and desire exploded in his chest. He let out a moan, soft and quiet, and Steve doubled his efforts at the sound, pulling at Bucky’s body and kissing him desperately. Bucky’s hand reached up to sneak through Steve’s hair.

Bucky pulled back suddenly, gasping for air, and stared at Steve’s face–flushed red, eyes dark and hungry. He leaned in to kiss him again, as soft and slow as he could manage. But Steve’s lips were wet and full and it did nothing to quiet the fire burning inside of him. Steve’s tongue darted out to swipe against his lips and he whimpered.

“Steve.” He didn’t know if he was asking or begging but it came out as a whisper between ragged breaths, lips still touching.

“Baby,” Steve breathed. Bucky shivered at the name and gripped his hair tighter for support. “I love you.”

Bucky’s breath left him in a rough, uneven sigh. Steve loved him. Steve was kissing him and _ he loved him. _It was too overwhelming for his brain to process so he leaned forward and captured Steve’s lips once again.

Steve’s fingers crept slowly under the hem of Bucky’s t-shirt and stroked his skin softly. “Do you want me to stop?”

Bucky’s hand traced down the line of Steve’s jaw, cradling him in his palm once more. He looked Steve in the eyes and said, “I want you to take me to your place.” Steve shivered.

Steve took his hand and lead him down the dark and winding streets. They had become significantly more crowded as people came out to watch the fireworks from their front lawns. They avoided everyone they saw as they cut through backyards and darted between houses and Bucky clung to Steve’s hand as he pulled him along. One long make out session behind a tree and twenty minutes later, they walked into Steve’s apartment. Steve guided him through the living room and to the edge of the kitchen.

“Do you want something to drink?” Steve asked hesitantly.

Bucky shook his head and glanced down the hallway next to the kitchen. “Is that your room?” Steve nodded. His room was small, but comfortable, decorated in deep blues and browns. The bed was covered in a thick, white comforter with throw blankets and pillows. He had a desk in the corner littered with stacks of books and papers covered in sketches. Pictures of Steve with his mom, with Sam and some other friends adorned the walls. Bucky had never been there before and it reminded him, briefly, of how much he had missed in the past three years. He pushed the thought from his head as quickly as it came. It didn’t matter anymore.

Steve walked up behind him as he was admiring the room and placed his hands on Bucky’s waist. He pushed his nose into the hair falling down the back of Bucky’s neck and breathed in. He reached up and placed a kiss at the point where Bucky’s neck met his shoulder and Bucky shuddered at the touch. He turned around and touched his hands to Steve’s neck. He ran his fingertips from the edge of his jaw down the smooth, warm skin into the hem of his shirt. Steve leaned in and captured his lips again and his mind went quiet.

They kissed slowly at first, and then frantically, desperate hands grabbing at tensed muscles and pulling closer, always closer. Bucky grabbed Steve’s hips and pulled him in until he could feel the shape of Steve’s arousal, hot and hard, against his thigh. Steve groaned and gripped the curve of Bucky’s ass. Before Bucky could return the gesture, Steve paused and pulled back. His eyes had gone black with desire and he was breathing heavily.

“We don’t have to do this,” Steve said sincerely. And Bucky knew, despite how turned on they both obviously were, that Steve would stop on a dime if Bucky asked.

It made him smile and he leaned in to press a kiss to the lips of the boy he loved so much. “Steve,” he said through a grin, “I’ve been waiting for this for 22 years. Please take me to bed.”

Steve grinned darkly and grabbed the sides of Bucky’s face and kissed him so fiercely, so passionately that Bucky was frozen on the spot. He regained control when Steve’s tongue made its way into his mouth and he ran his hands down Steve’s chest. He could feel the muscles that he had been admiring for months and suddenly couldn’t find any good reason why Steve still had his shirt on. He pulled at the edges and muttered, “Off,” against Steve’s lips. The shirt disappeared and Bucky leaned down to finally–_ finally– _put his mouth on Steve’s chest.

His hands moved reverently down the expanse of Steve’s abs, as delicately as if they were fine art–which, to Bucky, they basically were. He brought his lips to Steve’s nipple and heard sharp breath above him. He licked and sucked on one as he pulled the other between his fingers and Steve’s hand came up to rest on the back of Bucky’s head. He was breathing roughly, little noises escaping unintentionally. When he couldn’t handle anymore, Steve grabbed the sides of Bucky’s face and brought him up into a searing kiss.

“_God, _I want you,” Steve said as he reached around and palmed Bucky’s ass. He pulled their bodies together and they both groaned at the contact. Steve slid his hands under Bucky’s shirt and over his chest and Bucky shivered at the touch. He pulled the shirt over Bucky’s head and moved to his neck, biting and sucking marks into the skin there. Bucky moaned at the sensation and abruptly pushed Steve back. Steve looked at him with surprise until his knees his the edge of the bed and he was pushed down. Bucky lowered to the ground between his knees and Steve’s mouth dropped open in desire.

He recovered as quickly as he could and muttered, “You don’t have to,” as Bucky rolled his eyes and leaned down to kiss the top of Steve’s thigh.

“God, I hate these shorts,” Bucky complained as he kissed the inside of Steve’s thighs and started licking his way towards the offending piece of clothing.

“I thought you liked them,” Steve said breathlessly. He was staring down at Bucky with a somewhat awed expression.

“Of course I like them, Steve.” Bucky gave him a look like he was clearly missing something here. “I would just rather not pop a boner at work.”

Steve just gave a small, “Oh,” and when Bucky looked up at him he was blushing furiously.

“What? You think I haven’t been checking you out at work? That’s why you wear that stuff right?” He shook his head and ran his hands up and down smooth, tanned thighs. “These tiny ass shorts and shirts that are two sizes too small. Or, even worse, no shirt at all. You’re driving me nuts, Stevie.”

Steve breathed out “I'm sorry,” roughly as Bucky gripped the edges of his shorts, pulling them down.

“No you're not,” Bucky said through a grin. Steve lifted his hips as Bucky finally removed the shorts and his cock sprang free. Bucky’s mouth dropped open and he made a small noise in the back of his throat. He took Steve in his hand and stroked from base to tip, slow and reverently. He couldn’t count the amount of times he’d fantasized about this moment and the reality was somehow better than anything he imagined. He hesitantly leaned forward to lick the underside of the head, wet with precome. Bucky took the head in his mouth, suckling until Steve moaned loudly and he decided he couldn’t tease him any longer. He took the rest of Steve’s dick in his mouth and took him down as far as he could go. He set a steady pace, bobbing his head and sucking loud and wet. Steve’s thighs were tensed under his hands and he was practically panting above him. Steve wove his fingers into the long strands of Bucky’s hair and tightened each time Bucky sucked him to the hilt, holding him in the back of his throat.

“Fuck,” Steve groaned fiercely, pulling Bucky’s hair and gripping the sheets next to his legs. He reached down to cup Bucky’s cheek and trace the outline of his own hard cock inside Bucky’s mouth. “God, you’re beautiful,” Steve murmured. Bucky looked up at him through his lashes and watched Steve moan, his eyes rolling back into his head. Bucky could feel every twitch of Steve’s hips, desperate to jerk into his mouth and shaking with the effort to hold himself back, but the idea of Steve holding his head and thrusting into his mouth with abandon made Bucky moan around Steve’s cock.

Before he could encourage Steve to do just that, he felt two hands grasp his shoulders and push back gently. Bucky let go of Steve with a pop and looked up. “Is everything ok?”

“_Yes, _God, everything is great,” Steve said as he pulled Bucky up and off his knees. “I'm not gonna last if you keep doing that.”

“That’s kind of the point.”

Steve grinned, annoyed as usual with Bucky’s smart ass but too captivated in the moment to care. His face turned calculating and he grasped the sides of Bucky’s shorts and finally pulled them down. “I have a lot more I want to do to you first.” And there Bucky stood, bare before him, cock hard and leaking, neck covered in markings, lips red and spit-swollen. Steve was sitting before him, looking at him with reverence, eyes devouring every inch of skin. Ready to deliver himself at the altar of Bucky’s body. Bucky had never felt more beautiful in his life.

Steve’s hands snaked around and gripped the cheeks of his ass, squeezing and pulling him closer until he was flush with Steve’s chest. Steve rested his forehead against Bucky’s sternum and breathed in before he stood up and took Bucky’s face in his hands and kissed him. It was soft and restrained and Bucky felt dizzy with desire.

They stood there, lit up by bursts of light from the window, hearts shocked with explosions of sound and confessions of love. Their touch explored, their lips wandered, they breathed the same breath between them until they couldn’t breathe anymore, so completely consumed by the other. Steve looked into Bucky’s eyes and whispered, “Can I have you?” Their foreheads met and Bucky caressed Steve’s face with his own, skin to skin, igniting a fire between them. And their lips brushed so lightly, so delicately, that it could’ve been the wind if not for the spark it sent through his body and Bucky said, “yes,” as Steve said, “please.”

They turned and fell on the bed, long limbs tangling together as they kissed. They moaned at the friction of their bodies together and pulled each other closer–impossibly close. Steve’s hand drifted down Bucky’s body, caressing his sides but ignoring his aching cock, hard against his stomach. Bucky moaned as his fingers moved lower and traced his entrance. Steve looked at him with pure hunger, eyes black and focused. “Turn over.”

Bucky couldn't turn fast enough as he grabbed a pillow to shove his face in, pulled up his knees, and spread his legs obscenely. Steve’s breath picked up at the sight. Steve leaned over to the nightstand and rustled around until he found what he needed. Bucky braced for Steve’s fingers but instead felt two hands on his cheeks, pulling him apart. He gasped at the cool air and the thought of what Steve was about to do.

“_Ah!” _Bucky moaned as Steve took one long lick across his hole, flattening his tongue and groaning into Bucky's skin.

Steve took him apart. He licked and sucked at Bucky’s hole, probed inside until Bucky was arching off the bed and groaning with want. He clutched the pillow and buried his burning face into the fabric. “Steve,” he panted, “Steve please.”

“Fuck, baby,” Steve said in the most admiring tone Bucky had ever heard. “Look at you. You're so beautiful.” He was kneeling over Bucky’s body and he leaned forward to place a kiss at the skin behind Bucky’s ear. “You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that.”

“Steve,” Bucky moaned, long and low. “Please.”

“What is it sweetheart?” Steve answered. So close Bucky could feel his voice inside his head. “What do you want?”

“_You,” _Bucky whined, “I want you inside me. Please, Stevie.”

“You beg so good for me, baby,” Steve murmured and Bucky moaned louder.

Bucky heard the Steve open the bottle of lube and keened at the first press of Steve’s finger against him. Steve pressed inside and a shot of pleasure shot through Bucky's body. He started moving and Bucky arched his back and leaned into the pressure. He moaned and clutched the pillow tighter. “More.”

Steve added a finger, and then another, thrusting in and out slowly and bending them to find the spot that made Bucky cry out. Bucky was breathing fast and tears were collecting at the edges of his eyes.

“There you go,” Steve said, voice scratchy and gruff. “Take it so good sweetheart.”

“_Steve, _” Bucky cried, “I'm ready.”

Bucky whimpered when Steve’s fingers left him. “I'm right here,” Steve assured him. He heard Steve unwrap a condom and arched his back to angle his ass higher in the air. His legs spread open and he could feel the slickness of spit and lube sliding down to his balls and it made him impossibly harder. He jerked his hips just slightly to find friction against the mattress. Steve sensed his impatience. “Here, come here. Turn over.” Steve grabbed Bucky’s hips, turned him over and shoved a pillow under his hips.

Steve was leaning over Bucky, one hand pressed into the mattress next to Bucky’s shoulder, the other gripping his cock. His muscles were tensed and his skin was blushed red with a slight sheen of sweat. His body was on display and Bucky didn’t think he had ever seen anything more beautiful in his life. Steve was a beautiful man by any standards but seeing him like this–vulnerable and aroused and completely enthralled–was overwhelming.

Steve lined up at Bucky’s entrance and paused. He leaned down and Bucky met him in a kiss, grabbing the back of his neck to hold him. They stayed close and Bucky looked into Steve’s eyes. His eyes were dark and his forehead was lined with drops of sweat. His hair fell in strands over his forehead and into his eyes and Bucky reached up to push it back. He rested his hand on Steve’s cheek, brushing his fingers through his beard and brushing their lips together again. Bucky knew his face was pinched in pleasure and agony and Steve looked at him with so much hunger, so much arousal that Bucky thought he would shatter with the force of it. “_ Please.” _

_ “ _ Baby,” Steve whispered, and started to press in, gripping tight to Bucky’s hip as he went. Bucky held his breath at the pressure and his mouth dropped open. Steve’s face pinched together as his hips met Bucky’s ass and he bottomed out. Pleasure shot up Bucky’s spine and he whimpered and moaned helplessly when Steve started to pull out. “Shh, I got you.” Steve grabbed the back of Bucky’s neck and held firm, cradling him as he pulled out and thrust slowly back in. He set an easy pace, slow but forceful thrusts lighting Bucky’s body on fire. They held each onto each other with all the strength they had and Steve groaned, dropping his head to rest against Bucky’s shoulder, “ _ Fuck, _Bucky, you feel so good.”

“Faster,” Bucky said, breathy and high, “_ please _, I need it.”

Steve grabbed the back of Bucky’s legs and pushed them forward. Bucky’s body folded in half and his ass raised in the air as Steve started to pick up his pace, moving his hips back and forth. Bucky moaned and cried out with every thrust. The pleasure exploded inside of him, building and pushing him closer to the edge. He just felt so _ full. _Steve filled him up, effortlessly and completely. He reached every spot inside of him that ached with need.

“_Fuck, _Steve.”

“You like that baby?”

“_Yes,” _Bucky moaned, “God yes.”

They were closer than they had ever been, as close as two people could be. They moved frantically, shaking with need, but they moved together with an ease that Bucky knew could only come from knowing someone better than yourself.

Bucky could feel himself getting close so he moved Steve to face him, leaning in and capturing his lips. They ended the kiss but Steve’s eyes didn't leave him. He looked at Bucky and Bucky looked back and the world condensed down into this moment in time. All that existed–all that had or ever would–was the point at which their bodies connected and the look in Steve’s eyes. They held each other, healed each other, sealed up old wounds and fused their souls together. Hands created fire where they touched, lips followed to soothe the burn. Breaths were shared and hearts torn open and Bucky fell helplessly, inevitably into Steve’s eyes.

Suddenly, Steve changed the angle of his thrust and Bucky cried out, gone breathless with pleasure as Steve hit the most sensitive spot inside of him. 

“You gonna come for me baby?” Steve panted out between thrusts.

The way he moved, the way he looked at Bucky was so unbelievably arousing that Bucky didn't think he could form words “Mhmm,” Bucky moaned. Tears had begun to leak out of the corners of his eyes.

Bucky felt a hand wrap around him and after only a few strokes he came, dropping his mouth open and shaking with the force of it. He watched Steve’s eyes as he buried himself inside of Bucky, face shifting from disbelief to pure pleasure. Steve had never been so beautiful and, _ god, _was he beautiful.

Steve dropped his head to Bucky’s shoulder and they laid there, clutching each other and catching their breath. Steve moved to kiss Bucky again and their tongues slid together lazily. After a moment, Steve moved away, pulled out gingerly, and Bucky gave one last whimper. He heard Steve dispose of the condom and fall down beside him. He turned his face to the side and grinned leisurely at the big, beautiful blonde lying next to him.

“Damn,” Bucky sighed.

“Yeah,” Steve said, closing his eyes with a satisfied smile on his face. “I mean I knew that was gonna be good but…_ damn.” _

_ “ _Somebody's cocky,” Bucky grinned at him.

“C’mon, Buck,” Steve smirked and gestured to the rest of his body.

Bucky snorted and shook his head. “You're such an ass.”

“You love my ass.”

“I love _ you, _you idiot.”

Steve grinned sweetly at him and leaned in to kiss him and Bucky thought his heart would surely explode inside his chest. He still couldn't believe they were here, that Steve loved him back. He couldn't believe how _ stupid _they had been, avoiding each other all this time. But suddenly he knew–he didn't even have to question himself–that he would've done it all again and he wouldn't change a thing, if it lead him here to this moment.


	8. Chapter 8

** _July 5th, 2018_ **

Steve sighed and opened his eyes. Sunlight was streaming in through the window by his bed, bathing the room in a rich, golden warmth. He was comfortable and relaxed and knew he could’ve kept sleeping for several more hours. He stretched his tired muscles and froze when he felt a body next to him. When he turned and saw Bucky lying next to him--naked and warm, lying face down, lips set into a relaxed pout--everything came rushing back to him. The fireworks, the fight, the  _ kiss,  _ the sex.  _ Shit.  _ Bucky was in love with him. 

Steve turned to face Bucky’s relaxed, expressionless face. His hair was loose and disheveled behind him, tangled from the night’s activities, Steve was sure. His lips were red and Steve could see small marks and bruises starting to form on his neck. There was a feeling of warmth in Steve’s chest that was radiating throughout his body and he could feel something moving in his chest. He finally recognized the feeling as love. He was in love with Bucky. Of course he was. Had been for as long as he could remember. He was just too stupid to realize it. 

Bucky stirred, perhaps from Steve’s breath falling on his face, and turned away, tugging the blanket over his shoulders. Steve slid forward and wrapped his arm around Bucky’s waist, pulling him close. He pressed his face into the hair at the back of his neck and breathed in the familiar, captivating smell. Bucky hummed, finally awake. 

“Hi,” Steve said, happy and quiet. 

“Good morning,” Bucky mumbled, a smile on his lips. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Mmm,” Bucky hummed thoughtfully. “Sore.” Steve shot out a laugh. “But good.”

“Really good?” Steve pushed. 

“Really, really good.”

Steve stroked Bucky’s side moving from hip to ribs, drifting along to Bucky’s chest. 

Bucky turned back over and nuzzled his face against Steve’s, noses brushing, lips teasingly close. 

“So,” Steve started. Bucky hummed in acknowledgment. “You love me.”

“I do,” Bucky said, smiling stupid sweet. 

“And I love you.”

“I sure hope so.”

“Oh I do,” Steve said, running kisses from Bucky’s cheek down his neck. He came back up to look into Bucky’s eyes. “Why didn't you tell me?”

Bucky scoffed. “Well making a move on you didn't exactly go  _ well _ .”

“Do you mean at the graduation party? When you…”

“When I tried to kiss you? Yeah.”

“I didn't know that’s what you were doing,” Steve explained weakly. 

“Well it was fairly obvious, Steven, when I pushed my lips onto yours,” Bucky said, dripping with sarcasm as usual but grinning softly. 

Steve rolled his eyes and laughed. “I mean I just wasn't expecting it.”

Bucky hummed thoughtfully. 

“What?”

“I just–” Bucky cut himself off, looking away as he worked through his thoughts. “I don't know. I thought we were flirting all night.”

Steve looked down bashfully. “I mean...I guess we were. I just didn't know it?” He was working through his thoughts as he said them and he knew he wasn't making much sense, but this was an important conversation to have. “We were having fun like usual but it was different. We were teasing each other and saying dumb stuff just to say something. And you looked so good and you smelled nice and I just wanted to hang out with you.”

Bucky just smiled knowingly, “And none of this made you think: ‘maybe I have a crush on my best friend’?”

Steve winced and shrugged his shoulders. “No?”

“But you said–and I remember this specifically–you said you'd never thought of me in that way. Like you'd always thought of me as just a friend.” 

“I meant just that–I had never thought about you like that. It literally never occurred me.” Bucky shot out a laugh at that and Steve mumbled, “Once I thought about it I liked it.”

Bucky laughed and leaned forward to kiss him. “Oh, baby.” Steve’s heart exploded at the name and he kissed him back firmly. “I love you.”

Steve grinned. “I love you too.” He looked at Bucky sheepishly, “I'm sorry it took me so long to figure it out.”

“Why didn't you say something after that night?”

“Well, you were so mad at me,” Steve said, referring to their fight in the middle of the street. “I thought it was because you regretted it. I just thought you were drunk and never meant to do it.”

Bucky reached up and stroked his cheek, running his fingers through Steve's beard. He liked the way it felt. “I meant to do it,” he assured Steve. “I had always wanted to do it.” 

“When did you know?”

“When we were…” he paused, thinking, “fifteen I think?”

“No shit?”

“Yeah.”

Steve was shocked. He didn't know how Bucky could have felt this way for so long and he'd never even noticed. He never even thought about it. How long did Bucky have to hide the way he felt? How long did he have to pretend to be someone he wasn't? Logically, Steve knew it was no one’s fault but he felt sick about it. “How did you know?”

Bucky shrugged and looked down. He ran his fingers absentmindedly down Steve’s neck and through the hair on his chest. “I don't know. You said something to me or touched me in a way that made me think you were–that you might be–interested in me. In that way.” He paused to think, chewing his lip between his teeth. “At first I was surprised but I thought about it for a while. And I didn't hate the thought. It just grew from there.”

“Huh,” Steve said, staring into space. “I can't believe I never noticed.”

“I think we've well established you're not very perceptive, Steve.”

“Watch it, punk,” Steve said as he dove forward to bite Bucky’s neck playfully. Bucky laughed loud and fully and they wrestled around on the bed together until their wrestling turned less playful and more sensual. They made out for a while until their growling stomachs interrupted them. 

They finally ventured out into the rest of the apartment, clad in boxer shorts and holding onto each other as if the other was going to be torn away from them the second they let go. Thankfully, they both had the day off and Steve couldn't think of anywhere else in the world he'd rather spend it than naked in bed with Bucky. They snuck through the house to Sam’s room to make sure he was out and then made breakfast together. Steve burned the eggs three different times but to his defense, Bucky was perched on the counter next to the stove in nothing but his boxers and he just looked  _ so good  _ and he kept running his fingers through Steve’s hair and giving him those eyes and frankly, Steve shouldn't be expected to resist that. 

They showered together after breakfast and Steve made sure to pay Bucky back by pushing him against the shower wall and eating him out until Bucky was panting and crying and begging shamelessly for more. He smirked and made Bucky apologize and say  _ please _ before he snaked a hand around and stroked him until he came. Bucky moaned as Steve stood up and came all over his back, stroking himself and panting as the white stripes were washed away. 

Steve ran a towel through his hair as he walked into his room after their shower. Bucky was lying on his bed in a pair of Steve’s boxers–and  _ god  _ what a sight that was–looking at something on his nightstand. He kneeled on the bed and leaned down to place kisses up Bucky’s back, starting at the dimples above his ass and moving until he reached the spot behind his ear that made him shiver. He  _ loved  _ that he knew that about him. 

Bucky reached over and grabbed something and turned around to show Steve. “You kept this.”

Steve looked up and saw that Bucky had grabbed the picture frame he had by his bedside. He blushed a little and looked down to keep trailing kisses down Bucky's back. “Mhmm.”

It was a picture of the two of them from when they were kids–13 or 14 maybe. They had just finished a swim meet and they were holding up gold medals around their necks, arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders, megawatt smiles on their faces. 

“I remember this day,” Bucky said reverently. 

Steve hummed. “It was the first time we raced together. I was finally good enough to join your relay team.” Steve had had to work so hard to keep up with Bucky when they were kids. Bucky was on the best relay team they had and joining it was almost impossible. All he wanted was to be as good as Bucky and that day he had never felt more proud of himself. Of course he had kept it. 

“No that's not what I remember,” Bucky said, breaking Steve out of his memory, and turning over to face him. 

“Huh?”

“It was the first time we raced together, yeah. But I was scared shitless. We had that team from Indy in our heat and they were so good and I was the anchor and I just knew I was gonna mess it up.” Steve looked at him thoughtfully. He remembered the team Bucky was talking about but didn't remember Bucky being worried. Bucky laughed, eyes crinkling at the sides, looking up in fondness at the memory. “And you could tell we all thought we were going to lose and you jumped up on the starting block–and the official blew his whistle at you to get down and you looked at him and told him to wait–do you remember?” Bucky was cracking up now. “And you gave us the best pep talk I’d ever heard. The two other guys were so inspired, I could see it all over their faces.” He shook his head in wonder. “And I knew right then you were going to be captain of the team and so much more after that. That you were going to pass us all by.” Bucky said softly, looking Steve in the eyes. “You're the reason we won that day. You made me less afraid. You always have.”

Steve felt someone squeeze his heart in their hands, wringing it out like a soaked towel. He didn't know what to say. He had always felt like he was struggling to keep up with Bucky but to hear that Bucky looked up to him was too much for him to comprehend. He reached up and cupped Bucky’s cheek in his hand. “I’ll never pass you by, Buck. You’re going to do so many incredible things I can’t  _ wait  _ to see them.”

Bucky looked at him pleadingly. “So are you, Steve. That’s what I want you to realize. You don’t have to settle for what seems like the  _ right  _ choice, or do the things you’ve always done that don’t make you happy anymore. Make the art you want to make. Quit the swim team if you want. Hell, keep doing art history if that’s what you want to do but only if that’s really what you  _ want.”  _

Steve thought about the internship applications sitting in the drawer of his desk. Bucky could always see right through him and he knew exactly what to say to get Steve to shut up–which was quite the feat. “Wait, how did you know I wanted to quit the team?”

Bucky gave him a look. “You haven’t talked about it all summer. It was like pulling teeth just to get you to tell me your times. That’s not like you.”

“It’s just not fun anymore,” Steve said pitifully. “It’s all work.”

Bucky’s eyes softened. “Then don’t do it anymore. No one’s forcing you and no one is going to be disappointed if you quit.” How did Bucky always know exactly what Steve was thinking? Steve was quiet as he mulled things over. Bucky continued, “Do you think your mom would really tell you not to be an artist?”

“My mom is a teacher, which is a very sensible career.”

“Your mom is a teacher because she loves kids and helping people learn. You do not love learning about the history of art.”

Steve sighed and laid back. He stared at the ceiling and thought about everything Bucky was saying. He could maybe admit that he had a point. 

“God can you imagine what your mom’s going to say when she finds out?” 

“Oh my god,” Steve groaned. “She’s going to start planning the wedding the second we tell her.” Bucky was blushing but his smile didn’t fade as he looked at Steve. “She pretty much already knows anyway.”

“She does?”

“She’s mentioned it quite a few times. So I’m sure she’s figured it out by now.” Steve sighed, “She was the first person I told. That I was bi.”

“No way.”

“Yeah. I was losing my shit the day after you tried to kiss me and she could tell. You know how good I am at holding everything in–” Steve rolled his eyes. Bucky laughed. “So I told her. That some guy had tried to kiss me, that I had liked it, that I thought I might be gay.”

“What’d she say?”

Steve chuckled at that. “She said so what if I am gay and that I should’ve kissed the guy back.”

Bucky laughed, loudly and fondly. His eyes were a little more moist than they were before but Steve didn’t comment on it. “Does your mom know?”

“That I’m gay? No.” He looked down and Steve could see there was more there that Bucky didn’t want to get into. “Maria and Natasha know, obviously. And I told Becca–on accident.”

“Of course you did,” Steve laughed. “That’s a very  _ Bucky  _ thing to do.”   
“Tell me about it.”

They lay in silence for a little longer, lazily touching each other’s skin in all the ways they had always wanted to, dropping kisses where they went. Suddenly, Steve turned, laying his head on Bucky’s shoulder and tangling their legs together. He looked Bucky in the eyes and whispered, “What are we gonna do when summer’s over?” He didn’t need to ask if Bucky was in this for the long run–he already knew. They both did. They had been through far too much, had wasted way too much time to start getting shy now. 

Bucky stared back at him. Their faces were so close their noses were almost touching. “I don’t know. But I know we’ll figure it out.”

“People are going to find out.”

“I know. And I don’t care,” Bucky said sincerely. His eyes were brimming with tears but his face was set. “I’m so  _ fucking  _ tired of hiding.”

Steve wasn’t expecting the fire behind his eyes but it burned deep in his chest too. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I love you. And there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Steve took him in a powerful kiss that burned hot between the two of them. They gripped each other tightly, securely and held on with everything they had. 


	9. Epilogue

** _September 3rd, 2018_ **

Bucky looked impatiently out the window and honked his horn again. He was usually the late one but Steve was really taking his time this morning. Finally, his big oaf of a boyfriend walked out of his front door and grinned at Bucky waiting in the car below. Bucky couldn’t help but smile. Steve was wearing his usual too-short shorts and a tank that showed entirely too much. He couldn’t be too mad anymore, though, because it was all his to enjoy now. He could shamelessly check Steve out during the day and take him apart piece by piece at night. 

“Hey,” Steve said when he finally got in the car. He leaned over to give Bucky a kiss.

“What the hell are you wearing?” 

“What, you don’t like it?” Steve said innocently, a smile playing on the edges of his lips. 

“You know exactly how I feel about it.” 

Steve grinned, “Oh just you wait, babe.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” 

Steve shrugged and smiled wider. “You’ll find out.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and took off down the street. Steve was always coming up with some kind of plan–usually with the goal of torturing Bucky in some way. They were going to be late today but he would pick up a frappuccino to appease Maria and keep her from yelling at them. He knew Clint would be late too and Sam and Maria would already have everything set up by the time they got there. He knew to grab Natasha an iced macchiato with an extra shot and to remind Sam to text his sister happy birthday. 

It hit him with a suddenness and a strength he wasn’t expecting: this was his home again. He felt more at ease in his hometown than he had in a long time. He knew these people. He knew their likes and dislikes, their weird quirks, the jokes they told over and over. And they knew him. They knew his favorite movies and which popsicles he liked best. They knew his hopes and assuaged him of his fears. They dealt with his lack of punctuality and they knew that he was gay. They knew every important thing about him and they loved him. Not in spite of these things but because of them. 

It had been interesting, finally telling people who he was. Maria and Natasha did a great job of widening their eyes and pretending to be shocked when he told them that he was in love with Steve. Nick just nodded and smiled and continued to ask him questions about the schedule. Clint was completely shocked. And Sam had been his usual thoughtful, amusing self. 

Bucky had been worried that Sam would feel weird about his two best friends being together–like he was being pushed out of the group. But Sam was quick to set him straight. 

“So,” Bucky said hesitantly, “you’re not surprised?”

They were sitting on Sam and Steve’s couch, watching a soccer game. Steve had to go to work and Bucky had decided to stay a while longer and talk to Sam.

“Nah,” Sam said easily. He lounged casually on the couch next to Bucky. “I knew you two had crushes on each other in like...freshman year of high school. It’s just been a matter of time since then.” He shrugged and his mouth turned into a crooked smile. 

Bucky stared at him, mouth open and eyes wide. Leave it to Sam–his hilarious, goofy, endlessly kind best friend–to have figured out Bucky and Steve’s emotional turmoil before either one of them even had a clue. And he kept it to himself all these years, letting the two of them figure it out, but being there for them the entire time. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said. Sam looked at him in confusion. “I’m sorry we haven’t been very close the past couple years. Just because of… Steve and I.”

“Oh, please,” Sam waved a hand dismissively. “I wasn’t worried about it. You kept in touch with me and that’s what mattered. I knew you and Steve would work it out eventually.”

Bucky sighed and leaned back to lay his head on the top of the couch. “I don’t know what we’d do without you, Sam.”

“Well, your boyfriend would probably be a lot less stressed, I can tell you that,” Sam said through a grin and Bucky chuckled. “But your life would definitely be less exciting.”   
“Oh, I know.” They sat in silence for a little longer before Bucky spoke again. “I just want to keep up with you. Especially living so far away.”   
“Well you haven’t missed much.”

“Still.”

“But… if you really want to know what’s been going on in my life, I  _ have  _ kind of been seeing someone.”

Bucky glanced over in surprise. That wasn’t what he had heard but clearly Sam wanted to keep this quiet. “Oh yeah? Things getting serious?”

Sam shrugged and looked down bashfully. “I don’t know. We’ve only been talking for a few months.”

“Wanna tell me about her?”

“Well…” Sam paused and took a deep breath. “His name is Riley.”

Bucky stopped breathing for a moment and his heart beat loud in his chest. He kept his face as neutral as possible but he knew a small grin was making its way onto his lips. “Yeah?”

Sam looked at him, clearly a little nervous but excited too. “Yeah.”

Bucky nodded. “I can’t wait to hear about him.” Bucky was quiet and contemplative for a moment. He knew intimately, perfectly how Sam was feeling right now and he had never felt closer to him. “Dude, Steve is gonna be so pissed that you didn’t tell him,” Bucky laughed.

“Which is exactly why I didn’t tell him!”

“Kinda setting yourself up for failure there, huh?”

“Whatever. That boy is too nosy for his own good.”

Bucky spent the rest of the day learning about Riley and everything he had missed in the past couple years. He hadn’t seen Sam so happy in a long time and it only made him more grateful for what he had. A week later Steve found out about Riley and looked at Sam with the most adorably betrayed expression, that Sam quickly took pity on him and told him everything. Steve was still pissed, but Sam was used to his tendency to hold grudges and Bucky knew he could handle himself. 

Bucky hadn’t told his mom anything yet–he was still working through everything and building up the courage–but he and Steve were going to dinner with her next week and he was going to tell her then. He wasn’t doing it because of Steve–he was ready to do this for himself. But it didn’t hurt to have Steve at his side, holding his hand and having his back no matter what. Becca told him it was going to be fine and he tried to believe her. 

For now, he focused on getting to the pool on time–which he clearly failed at, regularly–and getting ready for school to start again. He was nervous and he knew he was going to miss Steve something  _ fierce  _ but they had once spent three years apart and it had done nothing to dull their feelings for one another. 

As Bucky walked out of the breakroom and onto the pool deck, he looked around and took a deep breath of the sweet smell of the end of summer. It filled his lungs and opened his heart. He had nothing to worry about. 

“Oh my god,” he heard someone next to him say. He turned around to see what they were staring at, with wide eyes and gaping mouths, and it was Steve–of course it was Steve–standing there in an American flag speedo and nothing else. Tanned skin, miles of freckles, and soft patches of chest hair on full display. His thick thighs and broad shoulders shone in the sun and Bucky felt something move inside him–part desire and part fondness for this adorable  _ idiot  _ in front of him. 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said, walking up to Bucky with a smug grin. Bucky just rolled his eyes.

“I’m guessing this was your surprise?”

“What do you think?”

“You know exactly what I think.”

“Want me to take it off?”

“Oh, I’ll be taking it off you later, don’t worry.”

Steve smiled, wide and expectant. “Race you to the pool?”

Bucky shot out a laugh. “You’re absurd.”

“Is that a ‘no’?” Steve challenged. He had a glint in his eye, sharp and familiar.

Bucky grinned and started running towards the edge.

Steve jumped and Bucky followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Thanks again to my beautiful, unbelievably talented artists [Kitty and Mulder](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittyandmulder/pseuds/kittyandmulder). You can find their post with all the incredible pieces of art [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21355210/chapters/50865562)


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